Green and Gold
by Phoenix Takaramono
Summary: Due to an alleged Death Eater sighting, as a competent Head Auror, Harry was shipped out to secure a prized Japanese monument from dark magic. During his investigation, he becomes the minder of a dog daiyoukai from the distant past. Aloof and flexible morals aside, he doesn't know what to make of the lord. Yet. Similarily, Sesshomaru is intrigued. SessxHP (MoD, eventual M-rating)
1. Chapter 1

(A/N)- My finals are coming up and this plotbunny refused to leave me…-sighs- Fair warning, this shall eventually be SesshomaruxHarry. The "steamy romance" will take quite a few chapters to build up to, as I'm trying to keep them as in-character as I can, but it's worth the payoff!

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**Green and Gold**

Chapter 1

* * *

"We've arrived at the Higurashi Shrine, Potta-sama," the Asian wizard moonlighting as a Muggle taxi driver said respectfully, pulling the car to a smooth stop along the curb. The stars stood out among the dark night sky, beautiful in this wondrous occasion. Dark eyes surveyed the still figure in the back seat, said infamous wizard who had his eyes closed throughout the long drive from the Apparition Point in the Narita Airport. With an awed smile, the young man lowered his gaze reverently from the Boy-Who-Lived. Turning the ignition off, he added, "I shall accompany you to the spiritual grounds as per Shacklebolt-san's request."

"No need, Takeda-Mushin-san," the posh but gentle British accent startled the Japanese man. Bright _Avada Kedavra_ eyes snapped open. Without his trademark eyewear, the Head Auror's sight was sharp and penetrative, honed by years of hard experience during the War and its aftermath. Takeda-Mushin Kohaku suppressed a shudder as those green lasers levelled off to the side, taking in their immediate surroundings with a trained eye. "What I have to do from here on out is considered classified by the British and Japanese Ministries." As if realizing the callousness of the dismissal, the Auror added almost hastily, "You have my thanks though for taking me this far, Agent, as well as having the gratitude of our department."

Kohaku nodded numbly, his shoulders slumping against the stalwart force that made up the well-known Potter stubbornness. There was no resistance to be offered once the wizard had his mind made up. Potter Harry-sama seemed to have gathered enough intelligence for the while for the wizard reached into his pockets, digging around for the Galleon-converted-into-Muggle fare and depositing the appropriate amount into waiting hands.

"You said the family has been notified?"

"Yes, Potta-sama," he responded dutifully. "The grounds are open to your investigation for the time you are here. With the exception of Higurashi Kagome, the entire Higurashi family is awaiting your exalted presence."

"There's no need for deference," the Auror replied bemusedly, patting his pockets for a quick examination of his miniaturized inventory. "You may just call me Potter-san, not 'sama.' I tell you what, after this is done, what say you to a friendly round of drinks with our friends? I owe you for utilizing your contacts effectively under tight time constraints."

Kohaku raised an eyebrow at the forwardness of the invite. "Not that I mean you offense, but surely you would have more important things to do?"

Potter-sama was giving him an odd look. The foreigner then chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, that's not a resounding rejection from you at least. Trust me, after securing the area, I'll need a stiff drink to loosen up. Companionship is just a perk."

"If that is what'll make you happy, Potta-sama."

With a final perusal of his person, one media-toted wizard extraordinaire wrenched open the left door handle and, much to Kohaku's protests, got out of the taxi before the Japanese wizard could release the remote latch. Under his trained eye, Kohaku could make out the vague shape of the notorious Holly wand sliding down his arm from the wand holster hidden under the Brit's grey suit. There was a quick wave and incantation to ward against any eavesdroppers as Potter-sama trotted over to the driver's window, gesturing for the window to be rolled down. The Englishman leaned down to whisper, "For appearance's sake, I'll give you a call when I need to be 'picked up.' Until then, you are relieved of your escort duty from me."

"Of course." Kohaku bowed his head deeply. Kohaku turned the spluttering engine back on and pulled away from the Higurashi property without a backward glance, pulling away from the soil where his ancestors—one yōkai taijiya and one monk—had pledged their eternal loyalty and protection over even in their deaths, a vow that the Takeda-Mushin descendants honored today.

* * *

Harry smiled politely, waving goodbye until the black Sedan turned the corner and sped down the inclined hill. What a nice boy Takeda-Mushin was. While he had taken a light nap in the backseat, he could feel the lingering glances the Japanese agent kept tossing his way. In a way, he reminded Harry of the deceased Colin Creevey. That particular brand of hero worship seemed to follow Harry wherever he traveled. It no longer bothered him that his fame had crossed over English soil. Over the years, he had learned to take the reverence his presence brought to the masses with tired resignation rather than his teenage indignation and embarrassment. He turned tail and took a deep inhale of wet grass and the heady scent of pine as he traversed the stone pavement.

There was something magical about each country's attempted preservation of its culture. But there was something even more special in the European and Asian ones. Japan was a ridiculously pretty country, in Harry's humble opinion. While Muggle Japan was technologically advanced than its British counterpart, underneath all the electricity and nuclear power a trace of Old Magic could be detected from beneath the cherry blossom canopies to the planted hydrangeas. It was a very different scenery from Little Whinging, Surrey and its rows and rows of identical houses in the tiny suburbia. Even here the well-preserved architecture bespoke of its owners' care and love of history. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the time long ago when wizards and magical creatures roamed free on the Japanese lands without fear of Muggle persecution.

While a nice thought, he was not here to play tourist. Not wasting any more time loitering, Harry quickly whipped out his Invisibility Cloak, enlarged it, and obscured himself in the Deathly Hallow.

Although the Muggles were aware of his visitation, they were under the impression that he was a sightseeing diplomat intrigued by Japan's rich culture. His appearance was to be hush-hush to avoid the media catching wind of his arrival. Harry snorted mentally. If only they knew. Unbeknownst to them, Head Auror Harry James Potter was flown here to investigate the unusual readings the Unspeakables had caught several months ago. The _Honekui no Ido_, Harry had registered among the confused murmurings of the Japanese Ministry as he sent his official papers requesting to study one of their treasured historical monuments. Though it was far out of the British Ministry's jurisdiction, his name alone had done wonders currying pardons for imposing on their sovereignty. Underneath the cloth, he levelled his wand precariously upon his palm as he whispered a point-me spell for the elusive Bone Eater's Well. His Holly wand spun lazily before stilling, its tip pointing to the west.

Quickening his pace but keeping his footfalls ever so silent, Harry went in the direction his wand was insisting to be tracked like a hyperactive puppy. Cicadas were buzzing louder in his ears the deeper he got into sacred grounds. Mindlessly following and ignoring the foreboding that was churning in his gut, he mentally reviewed Shacklebolt's missive before he was given the International Portkey and told to shove off immediately. Funny how even the mere rumor of a rogue Death Eater performing Dark Magic in a sacred location was enough to send the Ministry hollering for their savior of the wizarding world to clean up the remaining mess.

Harry grumbled under his breath. Blasted Death Eaters and their tenacity. Ever since he took down Voldemort, the number of Death Eaters remaining had dwindled down to a small number of fugitives that just refused to turn themselves in. Ever since his inauguration as Head Auror, his ramshackle department had connected the desecrations of various national monuments and mystic places to the desperate attempts of the Death Eaters reviving their Dark Lord. Loathe as the international magical communities were to admit their involvement, it was originally the Brits' mess that was impugning on their territories and therefore it was the Brits' responsibility to contain the situation before it evolved into national concern. Cue Harry Potter and his ragtag team of Aurors to swoop in to save the day and kiss political arse. He and his team had been around Africa, the Middle East, China, DPRK, the States, and now the land of the rising sun. This time however he was on a solo mission as a "free agent," considering he had advanced his prior knowledge of the nuances of the Japanese language and culture from his spontaneous exposures to Dudley's clandestine fascination with manga and watching colorful, English-subbed anime whenever Vernon wasn't looking. Coincidentally his friends and team had busied themselves with prior engagements at this juncture when the announcement to move out was made, so by process of elimination and merit, he was chosen to go.

The Japanese were honored to have his gracious presence on their soil, though it was agreed among the British staff that no mention of Harry's real purpose was to be revealed upon risk of endangering the situation. Harry James Potter and nosy, suspicious officials did not mix well together, as he and his team had learned throughout their worldwide jaunts.

Breathing in the rotted wood and grassy scent, Harry came to a stop before a small building, smaller than the other shrine-like buildings. His wand was practically vibrating in his hand like a smug bloodhound as he cast a dubious eye over the unkempt structure. This was the hidey hole of the sacred well? Looking around his surroundings, he nodded to himself and slid the wooden doors open.

The interior was dark and surprisingly larger than he had expected from its unassuming façade. Sliding the doors closed behind him, he cast a silent but weakened version of _lumos_, the muted light quickly bringing him up to date of his current surroundings. His nose wrinkled as he stepped into the shrine, the rank of damp wood and stale water repugnant the further he tiptoed inside. Keeping his eyes and ears vigil, he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that there were no Death Eater in sight.

"Ah, well, he could be hiding," Harry muttered to himself, sheathing his wand once more in his quick-draw holster after no one responded. His gut was telling him the fugitive he was looking for wasn't here. Straightening up, he cautiously made his way to the rickety fence erected around what seemed to be a ceremonial space, if the unsealed wooden well lying down in the middle had anything to do with it. His brows furrowed as he spotted birch and fern lying adjacent on the ground to the gaping maw as well as small footsteps that led into it. Birch and fern, both were used as conduits to ward off negativity and promote protection and purification. He got on his knees, picking up a sliver which was cracked in the middle, as if someone had stepped on it, and bringing it for a closer inspection. He looked at the fresh track marks and back at the sliver, then divested his attention back onto the well. His eyes squinted. And almost hidden behind the structure was what appeared to be a discarded wooden lid the perfect shape and size for sealing a certain _Honekui no Ido_. Curiouser and curiouser.

His instincts were buzzing angrily that something was up. And that something had to do with the Japanese national monument. He crept closer and closer until he was peering into the well. It was here that he got a strong whiff of floral perfume mixed with wet dog.

The combination smelt awful. He sneered, biting his lip. Taking shallow breaths, he pondered aloud, "But this doesn't make sense. Obviously someone jumped into…."

Brows climbing further and further up into his forehead, he cast another _lumos_, this time at full force. The magical light chased away the darkness but not to his surprise it failed to illuminate the deepest depths.

_Scritch. Scritch._

The hair at the back of Harry's neck stood up. The sound was coming from…

_Scritcccccccccch._

"_Riddikulus!"_ the jet of light shot down the well, before finally rebounding against the ground and coming back up in a big but muted flash of color. The sound paused. For good measure, he threw an _Expecto Patronum_ after it.

The scratching, if his imagination could be believed, intensified after that spell. Now instead of tentatively scratching, it sounded like whatever the entity that was making the sound was now clawing at something to get to him. Mid-cast _stupefy_, his ears picked up on what had to be undiscernible, muffled words interluded between the violence wrought against whatever was containing the entity from attaining its freedom.

Harry's eyes widened. Lowering his wand, he shouted urgently, too excited to remember he was not in England, "Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?"

The well trembled as soon as he said those words, and Harry could feel the surge of magic being pressed from within the cavern depths like a great tsunami force crashing against a cliff. Exhilaration washed through him. Death Eater or not, whoever this was was magical and in dire need of assistance. Grasping the edge of the well, he swore, "Listen, you're trapped under a barrier. I'm going to get you out!" His eardrums roared with pounding blood as he raised his wand and he bellowed, "_Finite Incantatem!_ _Accio_!"

What sounded like wood splitting broke through the barrier savagely and what launched up was a blur of white that was hurled viciously over his head from the forcefulness of the intent behind the incantation. Splinters rained down upon Harry's head and he ducked down as whatever landed behind him hit the ground in a loud crash that kicked up a cloud of dust when it landed.

Eyes tearing, Harry coughed and coughed as he cast _scourgify _after_ scourgify_. "Are you alright?" he wheezed, tasting sawdust and wet dustbunnies at the back of his throat. "Sorry, I hadn't meant to put that much power behind—"

A chilling growl assaulted his ears, and as the dust cloud was waived away _Avada Kedavra _green met blazing molten gold.

"Oh!"

* * *

Lord Sesshomaru of the West had been inspecting the borders of his territory when he sensed a foreign surge of yokai deep into the forest. Giving his human charge and Jaken a quelling glare, with a miffed expression only few could recognize he had flown to the destination via orb. Dropping down, he instantly materialized in front of what was a familiarly decrepit, manmade well. A thin eyebrow rose. This was the same well that he associated with the human miko and his hanyou brother. Leaves whispered in the distance and blades of grass crunched underneath his feet as he drew closer to the structure with much caution. Canting his head, silvery white locks pooled over his shoulders as he peered down at the lid of the sealed well.

The full moon illuminated his imposing, motionless figure as he quietly studied the source of the foreign spike. Whatever secret the well withheld was a potent enigma that bore further watching and yet…those golden orbs hardened. He could not ignore a threat to his lands. This yokai was nothing he had ever encountered before, and whoever was hiding within the bowels of the pathetic structure needed to be interrogated. In a composed tone that demanded immediate answer, he scratched at the lid with one long claw and commanded, "This Sesshomaru has no time for games. Present yourself."

The pulse of foreign yokai swelled up, but no verbal answer was forecoming. However that response brooked confirmation that the demon had some intelligence. With a frown, he tapped the lid in thought as he pondered how to format his next demand. Lost within his thoughts, his forefinger made a deep gouge in the wood, making an earsplitting screech that sent birds flying.

"…_kulus!"_

A blast of energy shot up underneath his claws and disrupted his thoughts as the lid shot up into his palm like a little geyser before rebounding back into a flat state. Sesshomaru took an aborted step back, staring incredulously at what he instinctively knew was an attempted attack on his person. The top rattled once more, this time with silvery white spiritual wisps escaping into the air. The ghostly tendrils writhed together to form a handsome stag which shook its head in confusion. Sesshomaru's eyes widened but before his mind could fully process the existence of the spiritual animal, he noticed its solid state was quickly dissipating into smoke.

"You are in my lands, under my jurisdiction. You shall not take leave before this Sesshomaru gives you permission to pardon yourself," Sesshomaru stated, reaching forward but touching nothing but air. His mokomoko-sama fluttered in the air behind him as furious yokai flailed around his person like an angry aura upon the realization his order was to be denied again. "Explain yourself. This Sesshomaru is not so lenient as to grant forgiveness against those who dare launch an assault on his person."

Eyeing its surroundings and Sesshomaru, the stag gave them both one long, appraising look before snorting in dismissal and disappearing from sight. There was an unidentifiable string of words that followed the apparition's departure, which sounded to the daiyokai's ears as loud, mocking jeers that reminded him sharply of Inuyasha.

Cold fury washed down his body as he seethed, "You would dare?"

He unsheathed Bakusaiga and, with a faint sneer, slashed at the well, watching in satisfaction as the well shuddered and cracked, the beams sliding downward toward the diagonal cut. Now that the hole was uncovered, he took another step forward to grace the suicidal demon with a last look at his magnificent presence before he ended the life of the imprudent upstart. To his surprise what greeted his vision were a swirl of water and a sweltering miasma of yokai energy. With the obstacle destroyed, his sharpened hearing picked up: "Listen, you're trapped under a barrier. I'm going to get you out!"

There was another spike of that strange yokai that made his inner beast perk up with intrigue and disbelief.

Next thing he knew, the great daiyokai of the west tumbled into the spiraling darkness, jerked at a frightening speed toward the bottomless nethermost of the great beyond. He tried grasping for anything to stop his descent but nothing, not even his usual modes of transportation and weaponry, could tether him back to land. Sooner than he had expected, he hit an invisible force that stretched under him like a tight coil before shattering under his weight, flinging him into a bright white light. His body collided harshly with a wooden beam and he collapsed onto his hands and knees as splinters of wood and dust smothered his sharp yokai senses. His Bakusaiga skittered across the wooden floor and hit the wall with a muted clang.

Mind whirling, Sesshomaru staggered onto his feet. His hand automatically reached for the other two swords he knew still remained on him. Adjusting his stance, he moved into a defensive position. There was a vulgar sound of dry coughing mixed in with unfamiliar dialect, and as the dust storm abided, molten gold stared furiously into astonished forest green.

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(A/N)- Ho, ho, ho. Any opinions? :)


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N)- Thank you for the reviews, **_Kuramaworshiper_**, **_Silvermane1_**, **_lurking247_**, and **_917brat_**! Your interest fueled this chapter along! :)

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**Green and Gold**

Chapter 2

* * *

Harry's wand hand twitched in reflex upon realization he may be treading on dangerous grounds. Mirroring the creature's aggressive stance—knees bent and weaponry ready to be drawn—he stared uncertainly at the tall and slender humanoid in front of him. Quickly he took stock of the creature: pointed ears, slit pupils, a crescent moon on the forehead, and colored stripes on an androgynous face.

If the eerily ethereal appearance hadn't clued him in of its creature heritage, the magical aura that churned around it was the same unrestrained and wild signature he'd originally picked up upon in the well, cementing any doubts he would've had that his magic saved the wrong person. What also caught his attention was the creature's Chinese-and-Mainland-influenced medieval garb: underneath the spiked pauldron and armor, past the richly-colored yellow and blue sash tied at the waist, the silky white kimono worn underneath was embroidered with a red cherry blossom flower crest at both the collar and sleeves.

The uneasiness in Harry's mind settled a bit. No matter what civilization people came from—whether be it the UK or Japan—the family crests were strong indications that they were of royal or noble birth. And if they were of reputed lineage, usually that meant they were tasked to conform to protocol even in manners of dueling customs. And if the creature followed a semblance of well-bred procedure, he would be able to communicate with the creature despite any language barriers.

He watched as those glorious golden pools were slowly contaminated with a tinge of pink.

Forcing tensed muscles into deceptive relaxation, Harry adopted a regal pose that would've made the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black proud.

The hostile growling coming from the creature stopped abruptly. Molten gold and pink remained riveted on his person as Harry internally called upon all the conditioning he'd gone through to suit a courteous diplomatic attendance.

Tucking his lit wand to his side—but not dropping his guard—and switching to formal Japanese, Harry said neutrally, "I am Lord Harry James Potter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and claimed descendant and heir to the Potter and Peverell noble titles." Bringing a fist to his chest, he bowed ceremoniously. "Although I do not yet have the privilege of your identity, it is still my honor to meet another highborn in distant lands. Forgive me for my earlier uncouthness. I do not intend any malignity or an attempt on your life."

* * *

When the being before him made his introductions and shared his good will, it was enough for the burning sensation in his eyes to subside. Sesshomaru's hand unclenched from the hilt of Tōkijin.

The accent was nothing he personally had heard of, but warrior and Lord Hari had offered substantiation to his story. Looking over the bowed head, the daiyōkai's face unconsciously slipped into the same practiced mask whenever a foreign diplomat visited his lands for the honor of his attention. Regardless of his odd human appearance and rounded ears, the "_ningen_" was missing the customary human rank and instead smelled of pure demon magic.

Heedless of how internally pleased he was by the rightfully-deserved respect he was given, that didn't fully forgive the previous slight this green-eyed daiyōkai made against him.

Inquisitive of what sort of yōkai Hari James Potteru was, Sesshomaru demanded, _"Omae wa dare?"_

* * *

Hidden beneath Harry's bangs, his brows furrowed indignantly at the address forwarded at his person. What kind of prat would use the offensive nuances of the Japanese language to question another person? Though he could already tell by the bearing the creature presented himself that, despite the present impoliteness, he was right in his assumption that this highborn creature would have something like the dignified speech pattern expected of a lord. There was no mistaking that deep, _manly_ brogue.

Green eyes rose challengingly to meet unfriendly gold._ "Anata wa dare desu ka?" _Harry asked instead, maintaining his polite address.

Those molten pools narrowed and a small frown twisted the creature's handsome face. With bored indifference, as if he expected Harry to be aware of him already and that this was just formality, the creature introduced himself as, "You are in the royal presence of Lord Sesshomaru of the Western Lands, son of the late daiyōkai Inu no Taishō." Almost immediately the aloof demeanor changed. "You are offering impertinence by not answering this Sesshomaru's question. _Who_ are you?"

The daiyōkai took a menacing step forward. "State your purpose for trespassing on this Sesshomaru's lands."

A demon lord? Taking a deep, calming breath, Harry straightened up and forced himself not to respond to the perceived threat of Sesshomaru's advance. "Forgive me. I was not aware I needed your permission to be on these grounds."

Fighting a scowl, he clasped his hands behind his back and continued professionally, "From where I come from, Lord Sesshomaru, I am considered the police force of my people. I was sent here to investigate suspicious sightings of a fugitive hiding out in your lands and to prevent the possible desecration of a Japanese magical monument. I already have your council's approval to scout this location, and I have the necessary paperwork should you wish to verify my story."

Golden orbs narrowed. It had to be important to the green-eyed daiyōkai's subjects if someone of his caliber was covertly sent to another daiyōkai's land, which was a capital offense in itself. However, this certain daiyōkai had to have come from far overseas for he did not think he recognized the lineage of Harry's clans.

"This Sesshomaru was not made aware of your presence," the golden-eyed daiyōkai rebutted calmly, his gaze intent on the blank mask Harry had donned as soon as he made his approach. "Explain yourself. My vassals would have notified this Sesshomaru prior to your arrival." Had an investigation of claimed significance to be conducted on his lands, his retainer Jaken would be sufficient in relaying the communique before the lord's actual visitation date.

"Ah. I mean this with all due respect, but I believe your vassals to be incompetent fools if they've either forgotten to inform your lordship or was unable to be contacted. My agents have already apprised the Higurashi family, the owners of this plot of land, of my arrival but even they were unaware of your lordship," Harry told him with a tight voice.

Harry suppressed a shudder as the fair-haired daiyōkai simply "hnn-ed" and looked down at him with merciless slits. Summoning all the patience he had, he kept his gaze on the demon's breastplate and maintained his rigid but harmless posture. Royalty expected a different level of deference as compared to lords and ordinary folk. Hermione had coached him against the varying cultural snubs that, knowing him, could be given unintentionally with each foreigner or creature he met. Magical royalty however—and judging by the old-fashioned garb—especially one deeply inset in tradition, were particularly hard to please yet were easy to offend.

With a slight worry tinging his voice, he stated, "I do not wish to start off on the wrong foot. It is not my intention to cause this misunderstanding. I assure you after tonight I personally will seek to right the wrong that my department unit and Ministry did not intend to happen."

Ankle-length, silvery white hair fell fluidly over a shoulder as the demon canted his head as his consent for the offered tribute. "This Sesshomaru understands."

Relief blossomed in Harry's chest. With an uncertain smile, he tilted his head and peered over the fair-haired daiyōkai's shoulder. He posed, "As it pertains to my investigation, may I also be informed as to why you were held under a magical barrier in the Bone Eater's Well? I didn't have trouble dismantling the ward, but an ordinary Wardmaster would have trouble with it." His immediate guess was that this was what the Unspeakables picked up on: a powerful demon lord fighting against what had…imprisoned…him….

The awareness of his surroundings came roaring back to him in a chilling rush. They were on a well-known spiritual ground. There had been slivers of birch and fern that had obviously been destroyed. The only known way to get rid of demons was to slay or purify them. His muscles tensed. He might have accidentally released a fugitive from the demons' version of Azkaban.

* * *

Sesshomaru's beast purred in satisfaction at the submissive image the obviously proud daiyōkai Hari willingly put himself in appropriately for his situation. As reward, Sesshomaru allowed Hari his permission to finish his business on his lands—regardless of the Higurashi humans who claimed this land as theirs—by not killing him.

In favor of observing the unusual daiyōkai with a closer eye, he murmured, "Only fools would think to control this Sesshomaru."

To Hari's credit, the still-unidentified demon didn't even flinch as the dog demon was now close enough to encroach on both of their personal spaces. He took a subtle whiff of Hari's natural scent to identify the daiyōkai, seeing as the daiyōkai remained stalwart against his order to identify himself. Underneath all the other scents that smelled of human gruel and hanyous of diluted demonic blood, Hari smelled of youth and pure, unadulterated yōkai. Never had he been stumped at identifying another demon. Catching the widening of forest green eyes, Sesshomaru paused momentarily and reviewed what he just shared. There was nothing alarming in what was revealed. "Is there a problem?"

Sesshomaru watched as Hari licked his lower lip nervously. As if gathering his nerves, the demon masquerading as a human shifted on his feet uncomfortably like a pup and then tentatively asked him for clarification.

With a bored look, Sesshomaru repeated himself: "This Sesshomaru has not been bewitched."

"You were unaware you were under a barrier?" Lord Hari asked harshly, his brows dipping in disbelief and incomprehension. "Or were you exaggerating when you said you were not held under a spell?"

"Deceit is below this Sesshomaru," he said with the same unimpressed look. Lord Hari was attempting to ask him for something he did not understand. Sesshomaru did not have the patience for stalling. It also didn't escape his notice that after his elucidation, the foreign daiyōkai looked minutely more relieved than he previously had been. Dropping a casual hand on his father's fangs (he ignored the forest green orbs that followed the action), he directed curiously, "Speak your mind."

"I don't think...it can't...I'm not sure if it's possible actually..."

His hearing picked up following unintelligible mumbling with words that, when pierced together, did not make any semblance of sense to him. A mumble of outdated terminologies and their conversation were repeated, his royal clothing and armor were questioned, and his fangs were studied with incredulity. Lord Hari's clouded features stilled upon one utterance and the absurdity of that mentioned scenario almost made the demon lord's mask crack.

"Nonsense," Sesshomaru disclaimed, his voice deepening as he reconsidered the mental capability of the daiyōkai before him. "To travel in time and not be aware of it is an impossible feat."

* * *

The wizard was shaken by his recent revelation. He had performed powerful magic that brought a magical creature to the future. Releasing a demon who was a secret fugitive was one thing; another was to have orchestrated the time travel of an ancient demon lord whom, for all intents and purposes, might have had a significant impact under his rule. Sesshomaru's disappearance from his time, no matter how long he stayed here, was bound to have consequences of epic proportions. There was a reason why time-turners only went back a few hours. Travelling forward was unheard of.

Time-related magic on the whole was considered by the wizarding community to be unstable, and serious breaches in the laws of time could result in catastrophic events such as unbirths or the altercations of one's path to be taken in life.

Swallowing hard, Harry paled when he realized they must've wasted half an hour chatting diplomatically when he should've tried to undo what had been done. Problem was he didn't know how to send back the demon with a hundred percent certainty. Clearly their solution relied on sending the demon lord back in the well, but the magic incantation required for that...well… Harry's shoulders slumped. Where was Hermione when he needed her? The longest time a time traveler stayed behind and didn't mess up time and themselves was five hours. They were racing against the clock before he made a bigger mess of the clusterfuck he had already started.

Licking dry lips, Harry looked calculatingly at the demon lord. Maintaining his politeness but stressing the gravity of their position with a climbing sharpness in his tone, he enquired, "Lord Sesshomaru, I implore you to remind yourself of the era you were in and its daily customs and wear. I realize you may think you're transported to another place, but think of how different your present surroundings and the company you suddenly have are. Think of how I am dressed differently from what you're used to seeing."

A flash of uncertainty crossed the daiyōkai's countenance before the stoic mask came back up. There was a warning laced underneath the frigid words: "This Sesshomaru requires more substance to your absurd claim than your word alone."

Before Harry could blink, the daiyōkai was across the room and picking up an impressively long katana with a unique runic design on its hilt and backside of its blade.

Fear and adrenaline momentarily thrilled through Harry's body, but settled down when the demon lord simply deposited the drawn katana back with the two other swords sheathed at his waist. Craning his ears, he heard the demon order an authoritative, "Show me."

Releasing a whoosh of air, Harry ran through his thoughts, gathering the quickest method for Sesshomaru to validate his concerns. Finding one, Harry fixed Sesshomaru with a wary stare. He cautioned, "Not here. We're on temple grounds that clearly did not age with the modern world. I can show you either magically through Appari…through _teleportation_ and bring you to the outskirts of the shrine property, or we'll have to stealthily make our way there without the Muggles…the _humans_ noticing."

"Hn." The daiyōkai studied the sliding wooden doors with a craned head, as if debating whether to validate Harry's claim himself or to allow the auror to show him the truthfulness behind his words. Understandably the lord was unlike the other royalty Harry had encountered in his travels. Sesshomaru's aura screamed of being a solidary, individualistic figure used to depending on only himself. Also, Harry was a magic caster. Had Harry been in Sesshomaru's position, he himself would've doubted the unrefuted truths even if they were shown to his own eyes, for he could have tampered with Sesshomaru's perception and casted an illusionary world to convince the demon of the supposed reliability of his word.

That also meant if he left the magic user behind, who knows if Harry could've casted a spell without him knowing. Short of making an Unbreakable Vow or a Wizard's Oath, there was only one thing to do. Sympathizing with the demon's plight, Harry extended his Holly stick, butt first, out slowly in Sesshomaru's direction so that the demon understood he bore no ill will.

Golden orbs swiveled down to stare at the proffered wand.

With a confident smile that bellied what he was actually feeling, Harry suggested an alternative: "I don't do this for everyone, but this is a…special situation. I'm going to place my wand under your temporary protection while you go and see for yourself whether I'm being truthful or not. I only ask that you come back and return my wand," here he stressed, "in. One. Piece. So that we could figure out how to send you back."

That seemed to do it. In the blink of an eye, Sesshomaru made the snap decision himself and disappeared from Harry's sight, Harry's wand in tow.

Harry cursed under his breath. The demon had been too fast for him to stick a quick tracking charm on his fluffy boa. Feeling bereft of the easy channel to his magic, Harry pulled out a protean-charmed Galleon from his pocket and activated it on Hermione's end, hoping that when the witch got the message and realized he needed her brains, again, she would have answers for the pickle he was in. With nothing else left to do Harry sunk down to the floor and patiently waited for the demon's return.

* * *

(A/N)- Personally I think Sesshomaru referring himself as "This Sesshomaru" all the time is stupid. Mhm, I hope you guys enjoyed the little mystery I introduced. Your feedback is always appreciated. Toodles!


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N)- Ah! It's barely been a couple of days since this story was posted yet look at the amount of interest generated! Good god, you guys are awesome! Thanks for your continued interest, _**sousie**_, _**Silvermane1**_, _**mer**_, _**lurking247**_, _**Guest**_, and _**Shadow Kitsune67**_! Some of you posted interesting questions:

_**Silvermane1**_: Can Sesshomaru smell Inuyasha around Kagome's house? _Nothing escapes this Sesshomaru._

_**Mer**_: Will Harry go back with Sesshomaru? _That'll be a major source of conflict later on in the story, guaranteed. Both are stubborn creatures. Trust needs to be established first. Then interest. Then competition. _

Without further ado, I present to you the next installment of their progressing camaraderie. Enjoy!

* * *

**Green and Gold**

Chapter 3

* * *

In the darkness, a condensed ball of light flitted across tree branches at the speed of light, exploding past the shrine boundaries and into the far distance where Tokyo and other populated cities lay. For one moment the light slowed down over empty grasslands, picking up on a subdued swell of yokai, before losing interest and surging ahead. In a matter of seconds, as the the orb dived down to the vast Pacific Ocean it performed an abrupt U-turn and circled back to the small forest where it had originated from. Bobbing along, the orb hovered over a branch and Sesshomaru's humanoid form was immediately materialized from the shattered sphere, dropping down onto the solid surface beneath. For one silent moment the tall figure stared down at the ground far below contemplatively.

Underneath the familiar fragrances of a calm forestscape intermingled with the common human stink laid the same acrid, alien stench of foul oils and tampered metal that made his nose burn when he'd flown by the bustling human villages. Human hygiene had improved, but was traded for a chemical stink. All the smells he'd encountered weren't as strong of a presence here but he still had to forcibly suppress the strong desire to cover his nose like an uncivilized yōkai. Sesshomaru briefly peered over his shoulder. He was so close to the defined bounds of the shrine property, but he remained far enough up to remain from weak human sight.

With a stony expression, Sesshomaru simply pivoted on his heels. He leapt into the air, his long sleeves and hair billowing out behind him from the fluid action. A soft breeze ruffled his bangs, peppering his skin with icy kisses as the toes of his boots softly touched down upon the bark of another branch.

Scant patches of moonlight shone through the canopy, bathing his statuesque figure in an otherworldly glow as he surveyed the distant shrine which one Lord Hari James Potteru was waiting for him inside. About to leap down, his body stilled when he felt a muted spike of yokai and another voice joined the lord's.

Beyond the doors, pointed ears picked up on the undercurrent of confusion and contained panic that stained the accented tenor of the other's voice. The foreigner was softly explaining his present dilemma to a female whose accent originated from the same land as the green-eyed demon.

From what he could gather, there was familiarity between the two. Hari was explaining to the female that he cannot, in good conscious, leave behind what is his responsibility; that it was his fault for unintentionally spiriting the inuyōkai over to present times or perhaps to another world. The female suddenly launched into a belligerent rant that dumbfounded the Western daiyōkai when the foreigner merely took the insult to his own reputation and intelligence in stride instead of punishing her for her imprudence like Sesshomaru would've done.

Just as he was about to develop an unsavory opinion of the young lord's character and temperament, Sesshomaru was pleasantly surprised when Hari also seemed to have enough of her behavior. He spoke up sharply, like the rightful alpha of his pack, and the female instantly quieted.

Their voices eventually dwindled down in volume and were then silenced. Sesshomaru listened closely for any strain of further conversation, any indication that the female had left, but now all he heard was the scuffling of footwear against wooden planks. He waited for a few beats before he determined the daiyōkai was alone again and had not been plotting an ambush on this Sesshomaru.

Sesshomaru crouched down and he sat back on his haunches as he reassessed his current circumstances. With a refined slowness, Sesshomaru pulled a wooden stick from his right sleeve and brought the so-called sorcerer's staff up to his eyesight. Under his trained eye, he could tell the eleven-inch stick was well taken care of, considering the polished sheen of its smoothed down flank and the faint but well-worn grooves that bespoke of its owner's continued reliance.

When he'd snatched the staff from Lord Hari's hand, the glow emitted from the tip had disintegrated immediately upon the transfer of ownership. His curiosity had been piqued by the daiyōkai's unusual choice for a weapon, for the "wand" bore no distinction to the commonplace twigs found throughout every forest in his land aside from its slightly decorative surface and the hollow compartment which housed the essence of a powerful phoenix yōkai. He gave the stick a cursory swish, none too surprised when it failed to respond to him unlike it did to the other daiyōkai.

Sesshomaru tilted his head minutely. Perhaps Lord Hari's bloodline was gifted with an ability to transform ordinary objects into weapons of yokai might and power. His head fell to the other side. Then again had that been the case the daiyōkai would not have implored this Sesshomaru in maintaining its integrity and in ensuring their return. He flicked the wand once more. With a lingering glance and his curiosity satisfied, he tucked the stick back into the folds of his sleeves, the wood slotted securely against the juncture between his elbow and forearm.

It seemed he was in a most honorable company. The green-eyed daiyōkai had not relayed any falsehoods and had shown the proper decorum between two daiyōkais of their station. His outlandish claim was also not as absurd as Sesshomaru had originally thought. If it weren't for his recognition of the Goshinbuku his feet rested on, Sesshomaru might not have recognized the transformed plot of land that had been an immense meadow. He was still on Western Lands, but this wasn't the same Western Lands he was familiar with.

He palmed the tree's rough bark as he observed the ripped remains of the shimenawa scattered over the sacred tree's giant roots. Molten gold narrowed upon sight of the thick rope and ruined sutras. Someone had recently gone through extreme lengths to dispel the villagers' only repellant against demons and evil. A dismissive note escaped his throat and his hair swished as he turned his head away from the destroyed protections.

He was in the distant future. That detail still baffled the daiyōkai's mind. Never would he imagine he would be in the same position as his half-breed brother and his wrench.

A deeper frown tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Although, if the great Inu no Taisho's predilection bred true, the human miko might soon be Inuyasha's chosen bitch and, subsequently, Sesshomaru's sister-in-law. Ironically the shrine grounds stunk of the miko's human and chemical stench which tried its hardest to overwhelm the familiar smell of the hanyou. Sesshomaru redirected his annoyed attention back to the tree's moss-infested roots, his frown deepening upon remembrance of a certain human child that had refused to leave him during his rehabilitation from injury.

His shoulder bumped against the tree trunk as he leaned his bulk to the side. His face tilted up toward the moon in quiet thought. For one moment he allowed himself to consider the ramifications of his prolonged departure, to consider what might befall on his kingdom without his steady hand to guide them through the feudal era, and to consider what he would do if there was no way to send him back home. The memory of a bright, smiling face remained potent in the forefront of his thoughts. The daiyōkai breathed one name in a rare sigh so small it became a part of the wind and was carried away. Under the cover of darkness, the trees kept quiet of this one occasion.

* * *

Harry scrambled onto his feet the instant the shoji doors slid open and one fair-haired inuyōkai strode gracefully inside as if he owned the room. Heart pounding, the Head Auror schooled his expression back into a respectable poker face when the demon, having adopted the same bored look, stopped a safe distance away from the wizard. The midnight stroll seemed to have done therapeutic wonders on the demon for the wild atmosphere around the magical creature appeared less volatile as before. Golden slits flickered, taking in with diminutive interest the strange letters scribbled around the Bone Eater's Well and the white mixture caking Harry's gloved fingers.

Before he could open his mouth to explain, the taller creature inserted, "You are not planning to ensnare this Sesshomaru."

An incredulous expression crossed the auror's face. Harry looked back at the ward he had been setting up per Hermione's instructions and back at the suspicious daiyōkai. With a forced smile, Harry explicated, "No, this is merely a secret compound my friend made that temporarily stops any chance of unwelcome magic, aside from those I allow, to tamper with the well while we research a way to get you back to your time. It is not a ward to trap you or anything, Lord Sesshomaru. I don't think having you jump down the well will do us any favors if we don't know what actually triggered your arrival in the first place."

Sesshomaru's chin tilted down. "Certain incantations were overheard. Surely they can be reversed."

The demon lord chose to believe in his words. That made his companionship slightly more bearable to the wizard, who was used to people balking at his theories and accusing him as a liar. With glowing red cheeks, the wizard took another pinch from the pouch and he sprinkled more of the powder to finish the runic text next to his feet. Eventually his embarrassment died down.

"It's the strangest thing, Lord Sesshomaru," Harry said quietly. "While you were gone, I've been thinking over what could've possibly happened. The four spells I used in succession on the well shouldn't have been enough to defy the fabric of space and time. Two were defensive spells to ward off evil. The third was a counter-spell that ends an already cast enchantment. The last one was a simple summoning charm. Unlike the light you saw emitting from my wand, they do not have a cancelation incantation."

"And the apparition of a stag is a part of that repertoire."

There was an odd inflection in the lord's voice when this was asked, but Harry chalked it up to the stress of being pried out of one's world and forwarded in time. Channeling his inner-Remus, Harry explained in an instructory fashion: "The _Expecto Patronum_ spell conjures a non-sentient, anthropomorphized magical shield powered by your happiest memories. Since it's a high-level spell, if the emotion provided is sufficient, it is then given a corporal form which embodies the caster's personality and magical core to drive off your enemies. Before you were pulled through, I was under the impression that you were a Boggart or a Dementor—dangerous magical creatures of this timeline."

The wizard suddenly stiffened, his features morphing into one of dismay. Thinking back on the earlier conversation he'd had, the Head Auror was reminded that Hermione had warned him that a demon lord wasn't to be taken lightly in spite of the demon's pretty appearance and otherwise calm demeanor. Magical creatures in high positions ruled their kind by fear and reputation, not kindness and mercy. Clenching his moleskin pouch tightly, he asked rather firmly, "Were you, by any chance, hit by any of those aforementioned spells?"

Judging by the look the demon was sending him, he looked ready to chew Harry's head off at the audacity of his presumption. He growled deeply, "This Sesshomaru walks the path of the greatest of warriors. Your witchcraft was unable to pursue what has already reached the pinnacle of killing perfection."

Harry held his tongue against what he really wanted to say. Hoping his voice was back in neutral territory, the younger lord returned back in traditional Japanese: "Why would you think I would've plotted against you? In wake of my other duties, I've already expressed that I do not seek your ire."

A striped arm reached up to casually brush long hair back over a kimonoed shoulder. "You have a nuisance that does not realize their place in your pack."

Bright _Avada Kedavra_ eyes shot back up and focused on the demon's jaw. "Are we talking about Hermione? Wait, you overheard our conversation?" Those green eyes blinked and he shook his head in resignation. "Of course you couldn't help but eavesdrop in. Demon you may be, but I had forgotten a dog's sense of hearing and smell is much more sensitive than a human's." It'll be hard to keep anything a secret with Sesshomaru's enhanced hearing.

With another cautious glance, he continued, "I hope you don't mind. In spite of what you've heard, she's really one of the brightest persons I know. She could help us undo whatever I'd broke and get you back to your time without an extended pause from whatever you had been doing before my magic kidnapped you. Unintentionally. We'll probably see her tomorrow afternoon at the earliest."

Until they discovered how to send Lord Sesshomaru back, that meant any decisions he would make would have to consider the demon's comfort first and foremost and that any information Harry planned to share wouldn't fundamentally influence the demon lord's current personality and mindset.

Golden pools flashed and he looked down at the shorter "human" with hidden irritation. Harry flinched at the disapproving glare heaped upon his person. "Your packmate is not needed by this Sesshomaru and needs to mind her business. It is your sole responsibility to correct the folly you've committed."

Biting back the instinctive need to lash back, Harry focused on the not-as-distracting task he had ahead of himself. Putting the finishing touches on the runic circle, he dusted his hands off and he answered grimly, "I do not fully understand the hierarchy or dynamics of an inuyōkai pack, especially one of such high standing as yourself, but trust me when I say I give you my full endorsement of my..._packmate's_ skills. She's highly qualified. I would trust her with my life."

The royal dog demon didn't say anything to that. A comfortable silence took ahold of the two male authorities momentarily. The daiyōkai watched the wizard maintain a sideways position to keep Sesshomaru within his line of sight as the man swerved around the floor to add marks here and there. Neither let down their guard as the gears in their heads churned away, reevaluating the severity their situation. Yet one waited with bated breath for the other to breach the stillness.

He got his wish. The wizard had to strain his ears when the demon lord suddenly pinned his back with an impatient stare. Sesshomaru's mouth twisted as if he'd swallowed a bitter pill. "I will not tell you what you need to do. It is not necessary for your service."

An eyebrow shot high up Harry's forehead at the demon's admission. Harry blinked, took another sidelong considering glance, and then shrugged. "Alright."

As if he hadn't heard Harry speak, the gravelly voice confessed rather unenthusiastically, "Nonetheless even I, Sesshomaru, in such an incredible situation find himself in need of aid from this Hari." The wizard's blasé rejoinder registered in his mind. Golden pools stilled and Sesshomaru inquired coolly, "Hari, explain yourself."

The familiarity used by the deadly creature to address him by his first name was slightly disconcerting. The wizard directed an odd look at him as he tightened the cord of his moleskin pouch. Words spilled through his mouth torpidly: "I mean, okay, I hear you. Look, it's just that you remind me of someone I used to know. Both of you aren't the sort of people who are used to accepting help from others. You two are like lone wolves. So the fact that you need me is not a sign of weakness on your part, your lordship."

Professor Snape's face flashed in his mind, and the line of his mouth thinned. Nonchalantly, he motioned for Sesshomaru to hand back his prized possession. "I need to activate the runes before we take our leave. So. My wand. If you'd please."

Sesshomaru merely inclined his head as he smoothly removed it from his sleeves. There was a faint exhale of breath from both parties when he passed it back to its owner. Harry's fingers curled around the grip. The Holly wand surged in warmth when skin contact against the handle was made, and he gently pried it from the yōkai's possession.

"There is no need to sojourn from your investigation for my sake alone," Sesshomaru interrupted the happy moment between a wizard and his wand, glancing over his spiked pauldron to the open shoji doors. Cool amber pools rested back on the small white face before him. "After you construct your wards, we can make camp in the adjoining forest tonight."

A dark brow furrowed distractedly. "Hold on, we're camping? Here."

* * *

"There are no other scents present in our surroundings," Sesshomaru informed him, observing in muted fascination as Hari tapped his wand in the air over what he'd drawn up. Each squiggly line and slash lit up, and there was once more of the same foreign dialect that had brought him here to the Modern Era. The intense light show softly dwindled down to a muted glow, and the green-eyed daiyōkai stepped back to inspect his handiwork.

Sesshomaru looked down at one of the characters beside his feet. With the barest of curiosity, he lifted his foot and toed in the edge of what appeared to be the miniature depiction of a snake demon in yōkai form.

"I wouldn't step any closer, if I were you." Hari had pocketed his wand and was confidently approaching his solemn figure. "I didn't have anything of you, so you weren't keyed into the wards."

Thin brows dipped in incomprehension. Recalling one of their earlier topics, he murmured curtly, "This Sesshomaru has not performed any of this Hari's magic."

"You are what we call a magical creature, so you have an inherent energy in you that can trigger the protective runes," Hari explained calmly. He was close enough that, had Sesshomaru felt inclined, he could've gutted him with Bakusaiga. "Luckily we're far from the more loaded strokes, so the most you'll feel is a slight tingle."

Without the distraction of his preceding concerns, Lord Sesshomaru leisurely drank his fill of the mysterious Lord Hari James Potteru. Like most daiyōkais Sesshomaru had encountered, Hari's exotic humanoid form was considerably attractive. Although not as tall as Sesshomaru was, the green-eyed demon had a presence about him that insinuated ancient power despite his younger age. Physically there was no mistaking his demonic heritage behind the brilliant coloration of those irises and the magenta thunderbolt marking partially hidden behind bangs on the side of Hari's forehead.

Sesshomaru raked his attention down the thin fabrics that made up the younger demon's insufficient armor. He did not know if it was merely confidence in his fighting prowess or an adaptive necessity to assimilate with the mortal population, but nonetheless the attire was nothing he'd seen before in his lands. Sesshomaru mentally crossed off all feline and canine clans from his mind. Seeing as Hari was devoid of a fur pelt and/or tail, there was little chance of them being within the same genetic species.

(Realizing that the green-eyed demon may never impart with the information of his origins willingly, Sesshomaru wisely decided to push that subject matter aside—to be brought up for a later time, if they ever came to that.)

"Your idea has merit," Hari conceded wearily, appearing a little distraught to be under his royal assessment. Sensing his new chaperon's uneasiness, Sesshomaru' yokai rattled in its cage, forcing the great inuyōkai to lower his lids half-mast.

Licking his lips, Hari resumed, "I have my suspicions about the readings and sightings, but I was sent here to make sure no one would deface a treasured monument to magic and to potentially bring in a Death Eater for prosecution. It couldn't hurt to stay the night. It's not like…_my packmate_ would have any trouble locating our whereabouts."

The misnomer, Death Eater, raised Sesshomaru's curiosity. "This creature you are hunting consumes the eventual destiny of all creatures?"

The ensuing indescribable expression that crossed Hari's face made Sesshomaru pause. But as soon as it came it was replaced back with the same placid mask.

The young lord murmured impartially, "Not exactly. Where I come from it's the cute nickname Lord Voldemort, the title of their leader, created for his minions as propaganda in the Second Wizarding War. He feared death, so this was his way of turning his fear into his advantage. Many died by their hands. After he fell, his Death Eaters had disbanded into two parties: those who surrendered and those who fight back. I was sent to deal with the latter."

A silvery mane shifted as Sesshomaru indicated his small interest in the lord's personal conflict. Questioning what his instincts were telling him about the daiyōkai in front of him though, Sesshomaru restated not unkindly, "This lord fell."

Hari fell quiet, completely locking down all the emotions that had still shown through his mask. The younger daiyōkai was biting his bottom lip in obvious consternation as he considered the merit of divulging further information. He was intently eyeing Sesshomaru's breastplate.

Sesshomaru observed all this silently, waiting for the demon to make his admission. Either way he did not care one whit about what Hari wanted to share with him, but his yokai was agitated.

Finally those eyes hardened as he met Sesshomaru's speculative gaze. "I killed him."

The color behind those merciless slits glimmered and a small, satisfied, cruel smirk rose up on his solemn face. A true daiyōkai only grew into the mantle when he or she was able to keep their throne and lands safe. With pride hidden within his deep purr, Sesshomaru relayed, "A great leader must be able to crush his opposition. Make no mistake, Hari, this Sesshomaru is impressed by your kill."

Hari was not a soft, spoiled yōkai. He came into his inheritance with worth and honor. This made Sesshomaru inwardly very pleased to have come across this Hari, and not a hanyou or a lowly human.

With new warmth undetectable except to those who knew him, Sesshomaru praised, "You have the blood of a general in your veins. Be proud of your lineage. This willing Sesshomaru accepts your aid with pleasure."

Dark lashes flickered in Hari's luminous, green gaze. Hari inclined his head, his lips quirking up minutely as well. Clasping his hands behind his back, he advised, "If that's so, since we we're making camp here, we have a choice between the forest and the shrine. I can pretty much guess which one you'd prefer, demon lord."

"Hn." With that the royal dog demon turned his back on Hari, his mokomoko-sama and hair fluttering behind him as he gracefully glided out the doors like a ghostly specter. With an indulgent smile, Hari trotted after him, maintaining a respectable distance between them. Sesshomaru paused at the steps, and molten gold peered dispassionately over his shoulder. A silvery white eyebrow rose, as if questioning why the young lord remained behind. "Come, Hari."

Ignoring the green-eyed daiyōkai's startled glance, he waited for his unknown command to register. Once the smaller demon comprehended and came to stand shoulder to shoulder with the lethal demon lord, both of them disappeared into the forest. Together. As temporary equals.

* * *

(A/N)- He may look pretty in the anime, but a real life Sesshomaru would be terrifying. There will be a lot of cultural misunderstandings. Continue with the feedback, luvs. Some of you have provided my thinning plotbunny with inspired fuel and motivation. Well. Toodles!


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N)- Hey guys! I just wanted to thank you all for your patience and your sincere feedback. Ultimately your questions will be answered in a timely manner, but I don't see why I cannot divulge some answers.

As to why Sesshomaru believes Harry to be a daiyoukai…the most fun I'm having is considering they both come from different worlds, yet the parallels between their wars and traveling companions have made these fundamentally independent souls like kindred. I'm not saying it'll be a whirlwind romance. Between a demon lord and a stronger-than-average-wizard, their relationship won't be as easy as if they had chosen to settle down with someone of their own kind. I'm personally impressed that you guys picked up on some of the subtle cues I've implemented in the previous chapters. I can say with certainty that, among the speculation, three of you have hit the nail right on the head. Canonically timeframe-wise, _Green and Gold_ takes place shortly after the Final Act (but before Inuyasha's and Kagome's marriage) and in the modified timeframe of the HP epilogue.

Without further ado, I want to express my gratitude toward _**lurking247**_, _**mer**_, _**lovelycrazy**_, _**Yizuki**_, _**DevilDon'tCare, Silvermane1, MaiKanon, sousie, momocolady,**_ and _**CatgirlKitsune**_. You all are my most cherished readers.

* * *

_**Green and Gold**_

Chapter 4

* * *

It was when they've reached some sort of bamboo clearing that Lord Sesshomaru declared the spot to be the best of their awful environment to set up camp. Harry had merely nodded and went along with Sesshomaru's judgment, refusing to externalize his mourning of his clean trousers.

He watched warily from his cross-legged perch on the ground as the demon lord paced their surroundings agitatedly, scenting for any potential dangers and food. The folded wizard tent in Harry's back pocket was burning a hole in his trousers, but the wizard didn't dare pull it out in fear that the demon lord would balk at the additional strangeness of the Modern Era. So it was with much resignation that the wizard set up fire the Muggle way, with a stick and dry kindling. When the demon disappeared into the trees—this time he made sure to stick a Trace on him—Harry cast a wandless containment charm on the embers, to stop the fire from spreading past the ring of flat stones he'd put around the impromptu fire pit.

When boredom had kicked in, he found himself pulling the New Marauder's Map from his pockets and enlarging the parchment to look at the moving dots that made up the names of the persons of their nearby territory. After the Second Wizarding War, the Golden Trio had discovered a way to expand the _Homonculous Charm_ to record Plottable Locations outside of Hogwarts. Their only limitation was however big the parchment was, was the restriction of how much could be recorded onto the document that they charmed for duplicates to be made out of. The recorded grounds would also change depending on how far the user travelled or on the site wanted to be studied or on the person that was wanted to be located. Also Muggles and anything nonmagical were impossible to be tracked. It was another shortcoming they eventually decided not to pursue. He could only imagine the mess had they managed to include every single living organism into the spell.

Cheek tucked against a closed fist, Harry stared at the labelled dot that located Sesshomaru at what appeared to be Lake Biwa. He was far from the expert on demonology, but even what passed as supernatural fast travel seemed an impossibility for the demon to cross significant distance to reach the Shiga Prefecture from Tokyo. Perhaps demon lords have their own way of Apparition.

Resolved to ask the demon lord that when he got back, he checked the map for one more name. Seeing that she was where she said she was going to be, Harry tapped his wand against the parchment and whispered, "Mischief Managed."

A string of fish dropped near his lap, startling the wizard. Staring incomprehensively at the skewered flesh, he gingerly picked up the sinewy reed that connected them through their open mouths to tails between his thumb and forefinger. A rustle of fabric sounded across of him, and the demon lord settled down on the soil with dignified comportment. Unapologetic golden pools stared across the crackling fire in silence, almost as if he was expecting the wizard to eat or cook the fish for them.

Giving the reed and raw trout a small wave, Harry asked charily, "Did you just hunt dinner?"

There was a miniscule oscillation in the lord's jaw that could be mistaken as the stifling of mirth or exasperation, Harry couldn't really tell. Sesshomaru supplied helpfully, "The lakes in this time are polluted. This Sesshomaru found the cleanest freshwater and has returned with sufficient nourishment."

Harry didn't have the heart to tell him there was legislation against illegal fishing without payment or reservation in the lakes of Japan. With a longsuffering look, he simply closed his eyes and threw a modified Muggle-Repelling charm around their surroundings to protect their camp site and a Notice-Me-Not charm to repel little critters.

The silky kimono and sashinuki hakama shifted to accommodate restrained movement of the royal dog demon as he unlatched his three swords from his sash and placed them on the soil reverentially. Sesshomaru seemed relaxed as he imparted almost dutifully, "We demons do not feel the same hunger pangs as do mortals nor do we require tedious preparation because of our more resilient immunities, but with the humblest sustenance we should regain our strength for the morrow."

His mouth twitched. It was the odd way his last sentence was worded that didn't sit right with Harry, but he didn't know what it was about it that was unsettling. After all, the magical creature had a point. "It's kind of you to provide for the both of us," he replied hesitantly, still not used to someone else doing so for him. Green pools cracked open.

He was still reeling from the previous demonstration of walking side-by-side and dropping the offensive "you" which he had considered already gratifying enough considering his present company. He sat up on his haunches. "I thank you, Lord Sesshomaru. It wasn't…required of you."

"Nonsense. This Sesshomaru did not think to hunt livestock or lesser yōkai for us. Nonetheless this Sesshomaru has done the courtesy of reciprocating this Hari's gentility."

Well wasn't the demon lord the nicer version of Professor Snape and Malfoy all mixed into one bloodthirsty, pompous package. With bemused eyes, Harry nodded his acknowledgement as he set his map down and went about separating the catch into two piles: one for Sesshomaru and a smaller pile for himself. He placed a trout on a flat stone and deliberately withdrawing a dagger—nicked from the Black vaults legally—slowly, he dragged the dull side of the blade from the tail to the gills to slide off the scales with the clear practice of having done this several times.

"What are you doing?" the sharp baritone interrogated him.

With creased brows, Harry's lips curled as he looked up from filleting the fish. "Cleaning the trout. After that I'm going to gut the fish and cook our dinner. It's the least I can do for getting you in this mess."

The silver-haired daiyōkai seemed taken aback, judging by the slight widening of those slits, before he slowly smoothed his expression. "We are to eat them as is. Your exertion is both superfluous and unnecessary."

Harry's frowned in distaste, imagining all the innards and bacteria contaminating the fish Sesshomaru had brought them. He also wasn't in the mood for sushi, especially if they were fetched by a magical creature that obviously ate his food rare and expected him to as well. Repressing a shudder, he explained bleakly, "Where I come from, we usually eat cooked meats. I'm sorry if that's how you used to eat your food, but I prefer being safer than sorry with what I put into my mouth."

Golden orbs stared.

Harry was quick to add, "Nonetheless I shall leave your portion alone. We both have our preferences."

He didn't mention that it wasn't till after the Second Wizarding War that he couldn't tolerate undercooked proteins. His poor diet under the Dursleys had forced him to accept anything as long as it would put food in his belly even if his stomach threatened to revolt. Now that the wizard could provide for himself and had gone through what he had, he couldn't even put slightly oozing meat into his mouth without conjuring up images of bleached corpses strewn against the Hogwarts battlefield. Gnawing on his lower lip, he skewered his pile a little more forcibly than he could've and thumped the laden stick between two stones near the fire to roast.

He silently levitated Sesshomaru's pile over to the demon lord in the meantime.

When he was done with the preparation, his hands—now ungloved—returned to his lap. He only ate when the demon lord reached over and speared one with a sharp claw and delicately tore into it with a small flash of fang.

* * *

Sesshomaru didn't have anything to say more of another of Hari's odd human quirks. Peculiarities aside, the young lord did show his appreciation of the provisions Sesshomaru usually only extended to Rin when he felt generous. It was enough to appease his mind of the little setback.

Dinner was a quiet ordeal. It was customary between demonfolk because of the urgency behind each hunt, but after spending time with his traveling companions the demon lord wasn't sure if he preferred the silent company over the chatterboxes he had kept around.

He watched the other lord impartially as the remaining fish that weren't to be consumed by either of them were disposed of quickly through magical means. Fortunately Hari had once again proven to contain some sense in his head unlike a certain hanyou and the company Inuyasha kept. The smell of food usually attracted unwanted attention. While he did not doubt the two of them were enough to put down any unpleasant threats, he did not feel in the mood to, like a proper pack alpha and lord, strike down lesser yōkai or humans who did not know their place.

He threw the pin bones he'd picked out into the fire, watching as they sizzled in the heat.

Nibbling on the last unfulfilling strips of flesh on his claws, he glanced at the crinkled parchment which lay on the young lord's side. Before he made his appearance, he'd noticed Hari had been consulting the aged document before closing it with more of his foreign dialect. The restrained miasma emitting from the parchment held the faintest of trace to fox or thunder magic, detectable under the heavy saturation of yokai which Hari had casted over their intermediate area to frighten off scavengers and mortal curiosity. In a way the energy discharge was akin to an alpha's scent claim on his or her pack, but released on a grander scale than the claim Hari had surreptitiously thrown onto him before Sesshomaru had left to fetch their nourishment.

Had they been back at his time, Sesshomaru would've made his offence known. This was his Western Lands. He was the alpha of his own—mismatched—pack.

But seeing as he was at this lord's mercy in an unknown period he could, although resentfully, let this one slide. Rin must've made him soft. He couldn't begrudge the ease of benevolence extended to his party, which seemed almost natural of Lord Hari. (Somehow he doubted the younger demon realized how well away his station was by overlaying his scent over the Lord of the West's, even if it was an untoward gesture to other yōkais that the feared eldest son of the royal dog demon clan was considered under this young lord's temporary protection.)

A set of clean claws agitatedly tracing his and his father's sheathed fangs, Sesshomaru wiped his other set on the slightly wet grass to reduce the pungent aftersmell. Once he deemed them sufficiently washed, he sat back to consider whether or not to revamp his opinion of his current companion for his human inclination. In one way, this daiyōkai had faintly reminded him of his father. Of Inuyasha, but quieter and more decorous.

After joining forces with his brother and companions to bring about the defeat of Naraku, Sesshomaru had some time to himself to reevaluate his prejudice against the humans his kind had preyed upon for centuries. It did not mean the demon lord would willingly follow his father's footsteps and mate one. He had no desire to lay with Rin, contrary to popular speculation of why he tolerated her company and kept her around.

He was well aware of the whispers in the yōkai community of perhaps the Inutaisho curse breeding true from the late general's loins. It did not have the same sting as it had for him when Inuyasha had been a mere pup, for now Sesshomaru knew better than to prove himself against the castle gossip. Even Jaken, the one most supportive of his distaste aside from Sesshomaru's mother, found himself endeared to the mortal charge Sesshomaru had unceremoniously initiated into their pack.

He could now grudgingly admit to himself some of the livestock weren't as pathetic as he'd originally made them out to be. Not after he'd seen first-hand of their tendency to survive every encounter and hardship like a colony of cockroaches. Gathering his fangs at the crook of his elbow, Sesshomaru arranged himself loosely on the grass—legs unfolded, claws tucked into sleeves, and body ready to spring into action in case of a surprise ambush. He declined Hari's offer to place a warming charm over him, already acclimated to the warmer temperature.

He noticed as the night wore on and the sun slowly appeared in the horizon, the motionless figure across from him also slept lightly, stirring whenever there was any loud disturbance before those forest green gems feigned peaceful rest.

In the early afternoon, with pursed lips he had rumbled what had been at the forefront of his concerns during the night which had kept him awake: "This Sesshomaru wishes to acquire knowledge of the differences between his and this Hari's time. Have the humans overtaken the yōkai tribes?"

* * *

Harry paused, looking up from the stonework. "Sorry, would you mind repeating that?" He was honestly the last person he should ask about the state of yōkai tribes. He made sure to tell Sesshomaru that.

The demon lord merely raised a brow. "You willingly remain ignorant of our state of affairs."

There was a definite underlying accusation in that deep brogue that Harry wasn't certain why or what he should be feeling ashamed of. With irritation coloring his tone, he returned stiffly, "We had more pressing concerns at the time than the deliberation of Japanese demon demographics, Lord Sesshomaru."

Mouth twisting sourly, he jabbed his wand at the fire pit, directing a stream of water to splash at the dying smoke. The last of the fire spluttered out upon contact. "I don't think you should know about the state of your kingdom," he cautioned, remembering what Hermione had told him about messing with time. His slid his hands into his trouser pockets, gripping the charmed Galleon. "Even if it is your legacy, finding out about it might influence your future decisions when you return home."

"Humans were a blight to the yōkai population," Lord Sesshomaru informed him with what could only be a bloodthirsty expression written across his handsome mug. "We have maintained the balance by feeding upon the livestock. Our preys return the favor. Should our clans be overridden with vermin no demon lord can, with good conscious, allow the calamity to come upon demonfolk."

Translating the extravagant but long-winded speech into one suggestive of the genocide of humankind, Harry could already imagine the uproar were the Nations' Ministries of Magic to catch wind of Sesshomaru's intentions.

Hoping to dissuade the inuyōkai, as it was the responsible thing to do, he shared, "Bad or good, I still maintain that you should not pursue knowledge of the future. Hermione and I were in your position once, during our formal education at our magical institution. We used a time travelling artifact to stage a rescue attempt. At the time we didn't think of the possibility of creating paradoxes, but luckily it was apparently minor enough in the long scheme of things that it still fell within the theory that anything a traveler does merely fall along the lines of the self-fulfilling circumstances which had been enacted before the actual travelling."

"By your own admission, that means this Sesshomaru was brought to the future for a purpose and what other purpose is there but to be a witness to your current state of affairs and then to be sent back to alter the course of destiny," the demon lord deadpanned, able to follow along with the Hermione-speak.

"But you were brought here accidentally," Harry argued back once he picked his mouth up from the ground.

"We cannot truly know that, seeing as you did what you did knowing what you knew and still doing so without remorse," Sesshomaru rebutted, not leaving room up for debate.

The demon lord had to be applauded for his masterful demonstration of oral aptitude. It took a lot to make one Harry James Potter speechless.

He was at a dilemma. He was starting to see the serious political clout arising within the magical community were Sesshomaru to remain any longer in their timeline. On one hand he needed to send the demon lord back as soon as possible before he forced his human ethics onto a species that didn't need his future interference. On the other hand he didn't want to be the cause of a magical creature's vendetta reminiscent of a Death Eater campaign. Knowing his luck, people would find some way to blame him for the lord's actions. He was so bloody tired of constantly switching between being both the media darling and social pariah.

So it was with great effort pushing down his Gryffindorish impulsiveness that Harry slowly directed another diplomatic response: "It isn't my place to tell you how to rule your kingdom, your lordship. I am not fully cognizant of what had passed as acceptable in the Western Lands. If you truly believe it to be the best course of action for your subjects, by all means…I won't be able to stop you."

"Your permission is unnecessary."

Harry persisted patiently, "So I can only take small comfort in the knowledge if it was meant to be for you to attempt the extinction of mankind, at the very least it had come to pass for the magical community, as a whole, to have learned from history and come to the decision to remain undetected from non-magicalkind and to make an…ongoing treatise between several magical species that make up our creature community."

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "As I've come from overseas, I personally have not made any contact with the particular tribes you are probably speaking of. Ah, that means prior to your appearance, your council had not been contacted by my men. Forgive me for my overestimation. I haven't met another demon—let alone another daiyōkai—where I'm from."

"Several individuals might have an idea."

"I know a few," Harry confessed, "but I'm not willing to impart those contacts to you, no offense meant. They're all a superstitious lot."

If it weren't for the stark curiosity in the magical creature's expression, he would've said more than what he had since he was dealing with a species without his moral scruples. Magical creatures operated under different standards that more often than not were violent and bestial in nature. The fake Galleon warmed in Harry's palm, and that was the only warning they got before one bushy-haired witch was delivered between magical creature and wizard with a loud thud.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione greeted enthusiastically, throwing her arms around the Head Auror's broad shoulders. Two strong arms encircled her pregnant waist, holding her like one would with a delicate glass figurine.

"Hermione," the dulcet tone returned warmly. Sooner than she would've liked, her best mate withdrew himself from the comfort of her embrace and relocated himself inches away. He held onto her International Portkey, which all personnel high up in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that had one were authorized to use. She noticed the tight expression he wore. He tapped her left hip with two fingers, motioning for her to turn around.

When brown orbs landed upon the mythical stranger, the witch let loose a loud gasp. When Harry had called for her assistance, he had not mentioned the otherworldly, intimidating presence the fair-haired male had to himself. Nor had he mentioned his bestial nature for Lord Sesshomaru's sclera had bled red, his irises had shrunken down into turquoise slits, and those magenta stripes on his cheeks had become jagged—clear indications of demonic rage described in the ancient scrolls she'd scoured from the Japanese Ministry's forbidden section of their library. A frozen Hermione Jean Weasley (née Granger) remained staring mutely at Sesshomaru like a startled rabbit, much to the latter's growing annoyance, until Harry had enough of the charged air and had elbowed her back into response.

Snapping to attention, the witch curtseyed before the magical creature, albeit awkwardly with the extra weight around her midsection, and made her introductions via Ron's hastily-casted translation spell: "Lord Sesshomaru, I'm Hermione Jean Weasley, your ally for the time you remain here. It was rude of me for not announcing my presence, forgive me. Harry called me because of my prior occupation in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in our Ministry of Magic. I am told you are a… pureblooded Japanese demon. A dog demon, are you not?"

Lord Sesshomaru looked in Harry's direction. "She is of this Hari's Court."

Brown eyes tensed at the deep gravitas that made up the lord's voice, conflicting with the delicateness of the other's features. Harry had warned her of this Sesshomaru's tendency toward condescending speech that an uninformed Westerner would not be able to detect—she couldn't keep track of the different honorifics adopted in all the global linguistics nor all the pureblood customs Harry was expected to know—but Hermione had not paid heed to his words. After all royalty in their time were generally well-mannered in public.

She could however understand the demon's behavior and speech was antiquated, therefore the translation spell conveyed the outdated terminologies as best as it could. It would probably be better for them to adjust their communication into something the demon lord would able to recognize if they could, since he was the temporary guest. "I'm his coworker," she supplied amicably with her head bowed, "and I believe you're operating under a misunderstanding. While _Har-ry_ is a special case, we have a Minister of Magic. We are, essentially, a part of his court, not _Har-ry's_." She tried to emphasize the correct pronunciation of the wizard's name, to wean the demon lord of his heavily accented address of her best mate in the most subtle method possible.

"Remember I handle your paycheck, Hermione," Harry pestered in fond jest. "I would say you've been a part of my _Court_ since we were school chums."

Hermione sniffed, recalling their deadly school adventures. "Be careful before you give Sesshomaru the wrong impression. I am not your personal secretary."

"Ah, no, I would never do that." Green eyes twinkled. "Besides I considered you my official advisor than a measly secretary."

"A clarification of her station is needed," Sesshomaru said, having composed himself during their brief, lighthearted banter. Tearing his eyes away from the wizard, he now raked his still-pinked gaze down the remaining length of her, lingering on any scars revealed outwardly, and determined for himself: "This Sesshomaru was told this Hari is a lord and general of his lands. Are you not a vassal of this lord, half-breed?"

Both Hermione and Harry stiffened at the title the demon lord had lauded the witch. Before Harry opened his mouth to come to her rescue, Hermione requested curtly, "By your criteria how have you determined that I am a half-breed, Sesshomaru? I realize we come from different eras, different countries, different ideas of blood purity. Where we're from, our half-bloods have the parentage of one magical parent. If that isn't the case, I regret to inform you that I am a Muggle-born or, in laymen's terms, a human with magical abilities."

Sesshomaru's lips parted, as if he had never considered it before. He conceded dubiously, "You vaguely smell of diluted _hanyou_ clans, not _miko_'s. If it weren't for the miasma that surrounds you, this Sesshomaru would've assumed you of _ningen_ blood."

The charm must've been faulty, because it should've been able to convert the few traditional Japanese phrases into English. Still it took no leap of logic to have grasped what Sesshomaru was trying to say.

"What does a human smell like? How is it different from a demon's?" Hermione demanded instead, unsatisfied with the bare bones of his explanation. A tic had developed near the dog demon's brow, but she plowed forward determinedly, "Do all demons have your heightened sense of smell or does that sensitivity have to do with your particular genetic species? I was with my husband before arriving, so I might smell of his cologne or whatever else that can be detected. So is it my particular smell or do you smell the blood of others on me?"

She resisted the strong urge to sniff herself, to determine how she could come off as repulsive judging by the slightly put-off face the demon was making.

"Underneath all the other scents, your bloodline is less pure than this Hari's blood," Sesshomaru imparted with a small sneer. To her dismay it seemed her attempt at correcting his mispronunciation had been in vain. His gaze returned back to Harry, as if he could share his commiserations. "My sense of smell is at a level too intricate to be understood by anyone not a dog demon or a daiyōkai."

Brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Relax, Harry," she soothed the Head Auror, patting his arm softly. "I've come a long way since Malfoy's spitting insults. I'm not offended by his assumption, actually. I can see why Sesshomaru would think so."

With the momentum of an accomplished academic, Hermione dived into the heart of the matter with fervent passion. Lacing her hands together over her belly like a protective gesture, she elucidated, "Sesshomaru, I think what you're picking up is the culmination of our genetic makeup, magical pedigree, and status. In that case, you are…correct in your assumptions. I am both human and witch with no titles, a mixed breed. In certain text, some believe us to originate from the mixing of demonic and miko blood, resulting in our Animagus forms and source of magic. It is not a popular theory in our western world, but the Japanese swear by it. My husband and Lord Harry came from two magical parents though, with titles and all that entails, including relation with several prominent...clans. By wizarding and Muggle criterions, I am a lower class than those two. I do not need his vassalage to secure my position as our standards of living have advanced from what you are used to, Lord Sesshomaru."

Dark brows disappeared behind white fringe.

As a show of solidarity, Harry shuffled closer and placed a heavy hand over her shoulder, an action which perceptive, slitted pupils captured with frightening intensity that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Giggling nervously, she jabbed her elbow imperceptibly into Harry's waist, only relaxing when the suspicion directed at them leveled off after her best mate backed up. The brilliant witch reflected on the plausibility of Harry having imprinted on Sesshomaru's mind instinctively, forging himself as the most trustworthy contact to have in an unknown timeline. A surge of pride grew in her. Harry had come a long way from the antisocial boy he once was into an upstanding, charismatic adult. She couldn't fault him for the demon lord's presumably sexist, nearly racist standoffishness to her presence.

She had been tempted to, but someone had to be mature. In privacy, she would make sure to lend a sympathetic ear when the wizard came to her about a certain someone's rudeness.

The fair-haired male glided forward and she stood her ground, not even deigning her attention at Harry's worried looks. When the tall creature stooped over, his long hair falling past his shoulders as he did so, to study her closely, she immediately blanched. She clumsily straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin—unused to conferring to pureblood scrutiny—for what she hoped passed as acceptable bearing for the warrior demon (she had seen his swords).

Finally sensing that he was nearing the end of Harry's patience, the demon lord cordially withdrew and gifted her with a nod. "She may provide her assistance to this Hari. Do not disappoint me."

She smiled widely, disregarding the insulting implication, and bobbed another curtsey. To her side, Harry loosened his grip on the wand she knew was hidden behind his back. With her hands folded underneath her bulging stomach—both green and golden pools followed the action—she proposed anxiously, "I realize you might feel comfortable in what used to be your empire, but there is nothing we can do here than gather information from the broken barrier casted over the well Harry had spoken of. Might you be alright accompanying us to our country? We can't leave you behind, not with a Death Eater prowling around and a Muggle family coming back soon. We'll be the ones in trouble if something untoward befalls you."

"Don't worry. We'll send you back in one piece," Harry promised, his frosty gaze simmering down into reserved pleasantness. He rubbed his forehead, the place where his scar is. Golden pools followed the motion. "But like Hermione said, we can't do anything here with alien resources. Hermione may be smart, but she does not need the extra impediment of border limitations. She has already gathered enough research material she needs to help us figure out how to send you back to…feudal times. Of course, we have to pass you off as…an important ambassador under Witness Protection."

"The good thing is Asian magical communities are rather close-lipped about what is one of theirs, so a few misdirection will be enough to appease any brownnosing." She gnawed on her bottom lip, recalling the _Daily Prophet_ and one pesky journalist. Rita Skeeter, be damned. "You'll have to lay low to avoid the media. We can't do anything about them. But it's better for us to be in Britain, where our words still hold sway rather than here under contemporary Japanese jurisdiction."

Both held their breaths as Sesshomaru reflected on their plan. Finally he acquiesced and made a show of communicating his gratitude for their hospitality. Which did not sound like he was thanking them at all. While Hermione felt somewhat pacified at finally being under the royalty's regard, she couldn't help but notice Sesshomaru had yet to remove his gaze from the oblivious Head Auror's expression, most likely using Harry's reactions as a platform from which to make the next logical leap. Hermione's face softened. The poor dear needed an anchor to ground himself from losing it.

"How old are you, Sesshomaru?" she couldn't help but ask, predicting the lord to be in his early twenties. She couldn't be sure. "I'm asking only to make sure you're over seventeen. We have wards around certain Ministrial Areas that bar entrance to anyone under our age of majority."

There was a flash of fang and—dare she say it?—the hint of smile was more demoralizing than his previous apathy. The demon lord enlightened her, "As of the date before my arrival, this Sesshomaru was over five-hundred years of age."

Hermione felt the ground rushing to her head.

* * *

(A/N)- …In my defense, I'm a sucker for Emma Watson.

Next chapter, Sesshomaru's entire POV. In the HP world. We'll find out soon enough his competitions for Harry's attention. Hoo boy. By the way, folks, I could go two ways with their relationship: dark but realistic, and passionate but fairytale-esque. What do you guys think?


	5. Chapter 5

(A/N)- Ai, no abuse. It seems the general consensus is for a realistic fic with dark elements and, if possible, a happy ending. I know how far to take this now. Conversely, I've read many Voldemort/TMRxHP fics so my inclination for a certain style of Harry is indeed warped. I prefer a well-written Grey!Harry or Dark!Harry nowadays, because of what he has gone through and what he has seen. Harry's possessions mostly remain the same as in the books'. Same with Sesshomaru, but with one exception.

A few reviewers have also asked for clarification for introducing last chapter's theory: a full explanation will be provided when Harry asks Kohaku about Japanese demonlore, but generally speaking I had _Inuyasha_'s 4th movie: _Fire on the Mystic Island _in mind. I rank that movie below _Swords of an Honorable Rule_, my favorite one of the Inuyasha franchise. Had wizarding Japan of then wanted to hide from prying eyes, the Japanese have no doubt they could with only the feudal era's limited technologies to disrupt the magical barriers erected which would have been MUCH more effective than the one on Hōraijima to house secreted hanyou children. The barrier they would've used would be a variant of the barrier casted over Mount Hakurei. While some demons or Muggles could happen upon their disillusioned sanctuary and spread the word, through word of mouth reports of any sightings would become distorted over time.

Fortunately you have an author that isn't committed to the idea of Harry having a creature heritage. Egads, have you seen the amount of creature!Harry fics? It's too convenient, too…easy for Sesshomaru. Considering he's going to be a huge asshat to Harry for what I've got planned, he kinda deserves it. Heh. For their relationship to progress that outcome will be very heartbreaking for our Harry, be forewarned.

…I'm a horrible human being. –twitches- Happy reading! Much props toward _**lurking247, Immortal Phoenix, momocolady, mer, Kai19, Silvermane1, Yizuki, Guest, Fox of the Blood Moon, yayacun, DevilDon'tCare,**_ and _**dracula2000**_. I don't know what magic you have wrought on me but you have sustained this plotbunny thus far.

* * *

_**Green and Gold**_

Chapter 5

* * *

"Why did you spring that on him?" Harry hissed, crouching down next to Hermione as she examined his runic-based ward around the Bone Eater's Well. Because the royal dog demon was waiting for them outside, he'd made sure to cast a silent Muffliato Charm around their nearby surroundings. Snape's creation had worked for them in the past. It shouldn't fail them now.

As the spell settled, the pregnant witch cast an annoyed look in his general vicinity before turning back to her former undertaking with an obnoxious swish of hair. Her shoulder bumped against his as she checked the last of the runes against the paper she'd drawn up. "You know that's nothing substantial. I just thought it'd settle his mind. Put yourself in his situation for a bit. Wouldn't you feel better knowing you might be among your own future kind?"

"He'll think we're part demonic now," he riposted heatedly, feeling terrible for the unintended deception. When she'd introduced it into her diplomatic intervention like some careless subject she'd just happened to remember, Harry had felt his stomach drop. After his _ex officio_ appointment, like Dumbledore had been appointed to after his defeat of Grindelwald, in the International Confederation of Wizards Harry had learned to read the intent behind seemingly harmless briefings.

"Because of your _kindness_, if we now tell him otherwise, he'll reckon we're mad."

"It's giving him something to think about," she stressed, not seeing anything wrong with what she'd disclosed. "Honestly Harry, I put forward a popular theory contemporary wizards of this continent believe in. I did not say it was the absolute, verified truth. Did you listen to what I'd said?"

Exhaling loudly, Harry dropped his head into his gloved hands. Many scenarios of how this could go wrong whizzed through his mind. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said instead, groaning into his palm.

Her agitated movements stilled. Staring down at the soil, Hermione experienced a moment of indecision caused by another wizard's doubt in herself. The moment passed and she shook her head to rid herself of her hesitance. "Even if he believed in it, telling him won't make our future go pear-shaped," she persuaded more for herself than for Harry's sake. "I'm not getting a huge kick on his expense. Most magical creatures think we're an advanced evolutionary branch of hairless primates. That hasn't stopped them from integrating into our society."

Affirming that Harry had drawn the ward precisely to her written instructions, she folded the note back into her parcel and she slowly stood up, holding onto Harry's arm like a cane to support her additional weight.

Leaning heavily against him, she tipped her chin upward and she peered into his bright _Avada Kedavra_ green eyes. "You realize you can't be thinking of heading to Hogwarts and dropping him off at the Forbidden Forest at earliest convenience."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "He seems more attuned to being in the wilderness. If that hadn't worked out, I was thinking of bringing him to the Burrow or hiding him at Sirius's ancestral home."

"The Burrow can't house another person with another baby on the way. You know that, Harry." She scolded, already envisioning the horrified face the royal dog demon would make to be subjugated to homely lodgings. Undoubtedly his opinion of their table manners fell along the lines of much-to-be-desired. "If we're talking about his comfort, he'll have to go where you go."

"Hermione," he doled out in token protest.

"But what you said about him being attuned with nature is correct. His robes speak of luxury but inherently he is a magical creature and most of them are comfortable in their natural habitats," she said sullenly, recalling the creature populations she had met and their subsequent offence finding out she had championed for their relocations before the Wizengamot. It was a harsh lesson to be learned but she had come to accept magical creatures did not need her help and were fine where they were, thank you very much.

She was still smarting from the public backlash when she'd attempted to bring back S.P.E.W. The most she had been able to modernize were wizards' nicer treatment of their house-elves, which already had come to pass largely to having witnessed the elves' unusually bold contribution to the Battle of Hogwarts.

"The reasonable thing to do is to bring him to all three destinations and see which one appeals to him the most," she continued mostly to herself, oblivious to Harry's growing dismay. She was falling back to old habits. Unconsciously she went to cover the _Mudblood _carved into her arm by Bellatrix. "Poor Sesshomaru. He must be so frightened."

"He seems quite calm to me," Harry supplied diffidently, eyeing the back of the stoic-looking demon lord standing guard for them at the shoji doors. Hermione's concerns for a Death Eater at large remained unfounded so far.

After a pause Hermione passed him a pitying look. "You men and your machismo."

"You girls and your womanly instincts," he returned good-naturedly, taking her parcel. His shoulders slouched, he mentally appraised the details of their spontaneous plan—from how they would introduce him to their modern advancements to the damage control he was sure they would have to mediate. Several pressing alarms stood in the forefront of his thoughts.

"I promised my Japanese escort to meet him after my business was concluded," Harry mentioned offhandedly with a dip in his brows. Scraping his gaze from the top of her frizzy hair to the bulge in her stomach, he imparted, "Blame it on my male machismo but I don't feel safe leaving you alone with an archaic, pureblooded demon. Ron would have my balls if anything happened to his wife and child."

Brown doe-eyes widened, not having well thought-out his ambassadorial inconvenience. "We could hide under your Invisibility Cloak," she projected earnestly, having no problem huddling with a dangerous time-traveling magical creature.

Although seeing the auror rebuking her with a look particularly effective on members of the Defense Association in their fifth year, she experienced another bout of uncertainty. Harry made sure to tell her exactly why he thought her newest plan to be mad.

"We could hide him under the cloak?" she suggested this time.

He gave her the same look, but more intense than the one before.

"We could hold onto the cloak," she defended herself, "so that we won't lose him. We can't cast him with a Disillusionment Charm. We can't trust that he'll sit put if we can't keep track of where he is."

* * *

When Lord Hari and his packmate returned to the surface, Sesshomaru made sure to keep the pregnant witch within his immediate sight. Upon her abrupt entrance, only had it been Hari's protective claim detected upon the female hanyou's demonic aura that had stilled the demon lord's hand.

A secret society borne between yōkais and mikos that even he had not been aware of…Sesshomaru didn't know what to make of that unfeasibility. He was under no disillusionment for his company had imparted as thus in spite of the certain buzzing he overheard over the leaked tidbits of their smalltalk. What his present companions didn't know was that priests and demonfolk were natural nemeses, their spiritual and demonic powers automatically canceling each other out and often with fatal results.

He couldn't comprehend what evolutionary adaptation that would allow the mutation to result in an offspring.

But it explained the fluctuation of yokai he'd picked up that coated the otherwise human female. He'd given her the cursory one-over. Bushy brown hair tied back in a plait and big brown doe-eyes...a small slip of a woman attired in a calf-length kimono that bled a dark rose red underneath what resembled a shorter hanten... His attention had lingered on her throat where the scarf she wore was as equally floaty as her unusually one-layered sleeveless kimono. He had been half-inclined to write her off as an oddly-but-well-dressed common woman.

Unlike the green-eyed daiyōkai, she was missing notable demonic traits like marks of lineage or unusually-colored eyes. Like Hari though, her unknown bloodline smelled significantly cleaner than those plaguing humankind. If it hadn't been for that, it wouldn't have overruled his earlier suspicion of a demonic possession for she still retained traces of the mortal decaying rank.

Until it was confirmed otherwise, he was fine with accepting his future subjects' unfounded theory. Sorcery, in his mind, belonged to the priesthood and yōkai clans.

His cool gaze sought out the other daiyōkai in the distance, whom remained occupied with providing for his packmate's otherwise fragile condition. Pregnant omegas and betas were often coveted among the demonfolk. For one to be outside her mate's protection, Sesshomaru was perturbed that her pack alpha was left to deal with a responsibility that wasn't his and to be willingly accepting of the inconvenience.

It made him remember of the accursed mark that had been clawed onto his back at one point in the past. The eldest son hadn't been fully aware of the legendary Horai Island until two of his father's vassals pledged to him their intentions to defeat its Four War Gods at the behest of the late Inu no Taisho. It wasn't until he'd encountered the lowly phoenix demon and had made been made his thrall that Sesshomaru sought retribution. He'd done what any self-respecting lord would have done when dealing with any perceived insolence.

For a pack alpha to provide for a pregnant packmate that wasn't his, it meant the female's mate left a lot to be desired. This Sesshomaru was looking forward to the disciplinary actions Lord Hari would take against his packmate's mate if the irritated expression on Hari's face was anything to go by.

"Sesshomaru, what transportation does your kind utilize back then?" Hari's inquisitive packmate requested of him.

The two younger demonfolk were now in his immediate vicinity, looking upon him with wide eyes. When the female had recovered from his earlier flippant answer, she revealed them to be both younger than Inuyasha. By more than two centuries!

He'd scented their youthfulness, but he never would've been able to conceive them to be around the age of Inuyasha's bitch. There was an aged quality to these two that bespoke of being veterans from a recent battle, with tells such as their hypervigilance, trouble falling asleep (from last night's observations), and dependency on each other. He was more astonished that Hari had taken the mantle of a daiyōkai for someone so young especially when the female informed him of their kind's somewhat prolonged life expectancy which, for them, was two times slower than their mortal counterparts.

Compared to the average yōkai's lifespan, theirs was almost negligible.

He had the sneaking suspicion that Lord Hari hadn't publicized his daiyōkai virility yet or he hadn't been made aware of the benefits of his higher station. It was something Sesshomaru would have to test first before reaching a solid conclusion.

"This Sesshomaru has no need to speak to you," he responded chivalrously, wondering in the back of his mind the gall of a modern-day hanyou to request a lord to entertain her with his talents. In his day he'd merely keep a disdained silence while Jaken berated the offender for forgetting their station. Those who were proud of their perceived intelligence and self-preservation dared not to address him without his proper title.

Pulling forward away from him, the female engaged her pack alpha in another foreign dialect that sounded choppy and less powerful than the incantations backed with yokai. She was making what appeared to be consoling gestures at Hari, which puzzled Sesshomaru as he observed their one-sided conversation from the back.

"Lord Sesshomaru," Hari—Sesshomaru noticed his expression had soured—finally requested on his packmate's behalf upon reaching the shrine's entrance, "we've ran into complications that needs to be remedied. How comfortable are you with our modes of transport?"

The inuyōkai frowned, recalling the female's abrupt appearance. He'd felt the sharp influx of yokai which resonated from Hari's person in a split second before an overwhelming demonic energy brought the witch to them in a dizzying whirl. His frown deepened at the memory of the head of a golden statue Hari had snatched from his packmate, which seemed to be her employed method of travel. "A-Un had been used as my traveling beast of burden for centuries," he imparted dutifully, withholding further mention of his possessions, "nothing like your brand of transport."

The female took his reply as permission to launch into a lecture that delved into the complexities of their Portkeys, Floo Network, Apparition, flying broomsticks and carriages pulled by magical creatures capable of flight or long distance—and what he could expect from each travel. He took her briefing seriously, unlike Hari who traveled some distance to raise his wand arm in the air. By the time she was done, he had a flimsy garment thrown over his head with a pregnant hanyou huddled closely to his person.

The tip of Hari's wand exploded in a shower of red sparks. Hari was softly enlightening him that he needed to be hidden with Hari's packmate in case a Takeda-Mushin-san suspected anything of his two unsanctioned audience. The green-eyed daiyōkai's last parting words to them was for them to both be very quiet and to not —_for God's sake, please don't_—cause a diplomatic scene that'll have the Japanese Ministry on their trail.

The air parted with a heavy burst of yokai. A metal monster of sleek black erupted out of nowhere, screeching to a halt at the steps below them. Hari was taking off below when another hanyou bolted from the ears of the rumbling beast.

Sesshomaru had readied himself to draw his Tōkijin when small hands grasped his wrist to stop his movement, and he was subjugated to the silent entreaty reflected in those brown pools that reminded him so much of one human that his grip slackened. Hari's packmate was shaking her head, imploring him to curtail his battle-honed instincts from doing what was screaming at him to do.

Molten gold flickered back to take stock of the situation. It wasn't until the green-eyed daiyōkai did nothing but converse pleasantly with the dark-haired hanyou for the next few minutes that Sesshomaru did relax. Tōkijin slid back into its scabbard with a muted _schrnk_.

The female nudged him forward and he was amused to have her follow him with grace down the temple steps. He was not so amused to walk into the belly of the beast.

* * *

Extraordinarily enough, the male hanyou didn't seem to detect their additional presence in the back. He had been rather dubious of the duo's plan to hope for the best by throwing the cloak smelling of the hide of an unnamed beast over him. He was now rendered a believer in the magical properties of the cloak-hide. He and the female breathed lightly through their mouths, uncomfortable with their proximity and shared body heat. The innards of the metal monster stunk of sweat and tanned hide, which burned underneath his thinly-covered thighs.

In the rather tense ride, with Hari's dulcet accent effortlessly distracting the male that stunk suspiciously of taijiya origins, Sesshomaru could feel the female hanyou turn her head against his shoulder and he could feel the instant her damnable curiosity now concentrated on his markings. This time she quietly asked him what the meaning behind his tribal markings stood for. Then she informed him of today's common application of cosmetics and that if his markings weren't tattooed on or applied or cursed, he shouldn't be embarrassed to admit they were birthmarks. Because they were very beautiful. Oddly colored. But very impressive nonetheless. On him.

He noticed she didn't compliment the equally-striking lightning-bolt marking on her pack alpha's forehead.

With Lord Hari's constant warning glances met by molten gold in the mirror up above, it was at this point Sesshomaru silently put himself up to the female packmate's two major character flaws.

* * *

Sesshomaru felt very queasy when the blurring had stopped and he found himself emerging from the heatless emerald flames on shaky legs. Once the motion-sickness had passed, he scanned their immediate surroundings not so aptly named the Shrieking Shack. Wiping his palms free of the silver Floo Powder, he and the female waited for their last party to materialize from the hearth.

While they were waiting, he studied the small paw prints and the long drag marks that were ink dark against the fine grime beneath his boots. His lips curled at the effort he knew that would have to be made to remain free of the filth that seemed one with the abandoned property. There were no doors or windows that allowed entry or natural light through its boarded-up constructions and, to the demon lord's amazement, the walls were slowly moving. But beyond the peeling paint and upturned, moth-eaten furnishings, a confused miasma of many demonic energies were soaked deep into the rickety old floorboards.

After the female casted a spell to check for any interlopers, with his permission a translation spell was casted using Sesshomaru's person as the spell's anchor. By the time he felt Hari's yokai settle warmly around them when the lord rejoined their party, the female engaged Sesshomaru in a curt briefing.

According to the female hanyou, at Lord Hari's bequest the Headmistress of Hogwarts had allowed for a private Ministry-sanctioned fireplace to be restored on what had formerly been the command post of Lord Voldemort and the subsequent deathbed of one Professor Severus Snape. He didn't have to ask for further illumination. It could be implied what went down in the two-story abode by the subtle inflections in the hanyou's voice and Hari's involuntary reflexes.

While he did not know the intended direction of where they were going, the two honored their unspoken natural order: the two daiyōkais at front, Hari's packmate at their backs.

At one point there was a ghastly impression of where had once been a body, a distinct shape that wiped a significant portion of the floorboards clean. Fresh lilies were placed around the outline, clearly as ceremonial offerings honoring the deceased. The solemn energy around Hari had spiked, but it was the tension around those almond-shaped eyes that made Sesshomaru keep his silence as they passed that point without significantly slowing.

"Alright," Hari's packmate announced with false cheer, "either this tunnel will lead us to the edge of the castle grounds or the village of Hogsmeade, it's up to you. Either way it'll be your first introduction to wizardkind. While Harry parades you through the local haunts—sorry about it in advance—I can release a press statement at the Atrium that'll cement your cover story in the public's heads before your arrival gets blown out of proportion. The public loves a good scandal. Your being under Witness Protection with your creature heritage should be enough to put off the first wave of interrogations. Any preferences?"

"If we're going to sell the story," Hari brought up in a subdued voice, "it would make sense to have our Japanese ambassador visit Hogsmeade grounds en route to Hogwarts before we show up for our summons at the Ministry."

"We'll have to leave Diagon Alley last," the female said apologetically, indifferent to the demon lord's little clue of the titles of properties. She turned to Hari for his counsel. "It'll leave time for Shacklebolt to authorize the new credentials for him."

"I think we should keep his name and status. The most effective lies are often mixed with truth."

"True," she murmured, fiddling with her scarf. "The public will probably think they're fake anyhow if we tell them his image is purposefully designed to throw off anyone from recognizing him."

While seemingly approving of the plan without consulting the royal dog demon, Hari finally deigned to turn on his heels to direct a contrite look in the demon lord's wake. "We're sorry that you haven't had a say so far with our plotting, Lord Sesshomaru. It is not intended for any perceived slight against you. Among us three, only two of us have any notion of how wizarding Britain is run."

The female fetched her parcel back from Hari's mokeskin bag, opening its latch to check for the golden head stashed inside.

Rubbing the back of his neck, the younger daiyōkai was attempting to pass off his discomfiture as a casual motion. With a smile that didn't reach his eyes, he imparted, "It sounds awfully bold of me but you'll just have to trust me when I say your best interests are being considered."

"We shall see," was all Sesshomaru had to say to that.

* * *

The weather was a dull shade of grey outside when Lord Hari parted ways with his packmate, having been extracted a promise to show up at the Atrium "fashionably late." Both daiyōkais swiftly marched further into the picturesque village of little thatched cottages and shops far sturdier than the compact huts and stands Sesshomaru were used to seeing. The well-dressed hanyous of varying ages—he discerned the bulk of the crowd were made up of adolescent pups in black montsuki haoris with colored fabrics and crests that distinguished them by clan—stopped their prior engagements and immediately leveled the approaching figure that was Lord Hari with awed, worshipful stares.

He'd seen the same devotion in the black-haired hanyou whom Hari had bid his goodbyes to. And in the hanyous he'd been interested in studying before he was ushered to the International Floo Network.

The spell over the villagers was broken with Sesshomaru's glare and the villagers reluctantly returned to their activities. The lords were the picture of decorated nobility, their stances militaristically precise. Both had adopted a neutral-enough, cordial mask as they wandered into the hullabaloo, with the sea of hanyous parting before them.

Each time someone bold enough made to approach them, Hari would stymie their advance with a cheerful: "Hello, official business here on this fine day. Please go back to what you were doing. Thanks."

Despite Hari's best efforts Sesshomaru could feel the villagers' eyes in the distance furtively focused on his markings and pointed ears, and then their attention would be peering at his and his father's fangs secured tightly by his waist. The nosy hanyous were murmuring conspiratorially to one another about the demon lord's exoticness and were questioning the reason behind his attendance next to their lord. Their mistrustful fixation on his person made Sesshomaru instinctively sidle closer to his escort, silently drawing strength from the lord's seemingly unconcerned attention to the heavy public scrutiny.

While Hari made a show of pointing out all the tourist stops—that's Zonko's Joke Shop, that's Honeydukes on our right, oh I remember Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop—he imparted personal tidbits that made Sesshomaru want to smirk badly. With an excited fervor that was faked, Hari indicated pretentiously to the fine coating of snow on every slanted rooftop, mentioning how Hogsmeade was in perpetual holiday season. A crafty reference to the differences between wizarding Britain's and wizarding Japan's climates was tossed in, and Sesshomaru could see the subtle inferences the more intelligent of their eavesdropping hanyous were coming to.

For the slower populace, Sesshomaru interjected his appreciativeness of this Hari's welcome into his world as per regulation.

There was a trail of dialogue he caught between two females which nervously compared this Sesshomaru's proud, dignified bearing with a Lord Malfoy's. The curious beast inside him raised its head, slightly wary at the prospect of finding another daiyōkai in the same court Hari belonged to. Didn't Hari inform him he was the only other daiyōkai in this territory? If he stayed here long enough to relax his guard, he was looking forward to testing his strength against the daiyōkais of this time.

Breathing in the crisp mountain air, intermingled with the acrid aftertaste of coal and smoke, the demon lord could detect an undercurrent of murmurings which continued to sound like: "the Boy-Who-Won is coming toward us" and "Why is our Lord Savior back" and the ever common "What is that creature doing next to our Lord Potter" with little variation. The royal dog demon listened distractedly to Hari who was lightly advising him to curb any instinctual aggression to their cultural differences; that he should prepare himself for the stampede that was to come now that their lord was back in their domain.

It was too soon for Sesshomaru to develop a concrete opinion of the regard wizarding Britain had of Hari based on this one little village. But this Hari was obviously favored and must have done great deeds to have warranted the amount of respect which reached what remained of his Western Lands.

"Harry? Is that you?"

The senseless, accented question was brought up by a male that, to his ears, sounded insecure of where he stood in life. Both Sesshomaru and Hari turned their eyes to land on a round-faced, fair-haired wizard that was accompanied by his equally fair-haired Intended. They were both bundled up warmly in august fabrics in the same fashion of the villagers ahead. The two had been shopping before catching sight of their lord, indicated by the amount of produce peeking out over the bags they were carrying. There was a deep gash in the male's cheek that scarred cleanly. It was that and the contradictory deportment the male hanyou held that made Sesshomaru suspect him to be a retired fighter.

Hari's face broke out into a friendly grin. "Lord Longbottom Neville," he introduced enthusiastically, remembering the Japanese address in honor of his guest. When his attention was diverted to the pink-faced woman, he dropped into a more reticent geniality. He nodded as they made their approach. "And Lady Abbott Hannah. May I present Lord Sesshomaru, an ambassador from Japan I'm taking around to sightsee our wizarding Britain."

Despite the odd expressions met upon their reception, the couple collected themselves. The female immediately dropped into a curtsey and the lord that was called Longbottom—no markings of lineage were noted—mimicked the same greeting Hari had completed a while back. "We welcome you to our society, Lord Sesshomaru," this new lord expressed amiably. He smelled of plant earth and dried blood. Smiling through crooked teeth, he admonished, "There's no need for that, Harry. I'm just a Herbology Professor now."

"This one is a lord," Sesshomaru spoke up slowly, mostly for Hari's ears alone. Whatever this "herbology" meant, for a hanyou to willingly discard his high station for an instructive profession—which was considered a more acceptable position for a hanyou to take in yōkai society—it brought back memories of his unrefined half-brother.

Hari frowned reproachfully at his slight to another aberrant highborn. "Yes, this one fought in the frontlines of the war I told you about." His forest green eyes bore into the side of Sesshomaru's face as he championed rather vociferously, "He was one of the leaders of the resistance army against Voldemort's regime, and he's one of the bravest men I've had the pleasure of knowing."

"Harry, that's enough," the hanyou lord objected with a bright red flush that spread down his neck. He wrapped a supportive arm around the female's shoulders, whom appeared discomforted by the mention of the Dark Lord. "I did what anyone would've done in my position."

"Not many would have the bollocks to oppose Voldemort to his face and then been able to break free of his torture to behead Nagini," Hari dissented, clapping a hand on Longbottom's shoulder. Nonetheless he stilled his tongue from distributing further compliments. With a grim look, he relayed to the female, "And this makes you a lucky witch to have caught Neville's eye. Same to you too, Neville. Treat each other well, and I wish the two of you all the happiness in the world."

The couple beamed at Hari's blessing.

"If you're going to have him…sight-see wizarding Britain," the female piped up, avoiding Hari's gaze, "you have to bring him to Hogwarts." As if realizing the magical creature would have no idea what she was talking about, she added, "It's the finest boarding school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. It'll give him the proper idea of how our generations are taught."

"That is our next destination," Sesshomaru corroborated, examining the castle in the foggy distance. He, along with Hari, had sensed the intensified interest raised by mention of their newest subject.

"He's expressed his interest in seeing our Forbidden Forest," Hari fibbed, shrugging nonchalantly. "I was hoping to show him the outskirts of Hagrid's groundskeep and leave Hogwarts for another day."

"Why so?" Longbottom asked, shifting the bags in his arms with a small juggle. His breath came out into white puffs as he extended, "We're making our way back to school grounds. I have a class to prepare for tomorrow. We should walk together. Ginny's taken time off from the _Holyhead Harpies_ to give a surprise weekend demonstration. She'll be thrilled to see you!"

Sesshomaru discerned Hari's good mood faltering upon Longbottom's allusion to this Ginny female. With an uncharacteristic nervousness, Hari stammered, "Is-is that so? I didn't know she was allowed to leave training for the League Cup."

"She's a special case," the female said, smiling, "it comes with the perk of having been your—"

"Hannah!" Longbottom admonished, saving face for his friend's private affairs. Peering sidelong at the demon lord, he hissed, "Not in front of Hari's company."

Dark brows disappeared beneath a white fringe as the female physically wilted from mortification.

"I reckon we won't be seeing her when we head back," Hari murmured almost regretfully, with a purposeful nod to Sesshomaru. "It's only for a short visit. After that, we have to Apparate to the Ministry's Atrium for Hermione's press conference. You should tune in for that."

With a practiced motion, he swung a golden double-albert affixed to his waistcoat up into his waiting palm and he flipped open the dented pocket watch. Sesshomaru studied the ticking contraption briefly with a curious air, before his concentration shifted.

"Isn't that a Sacred Twenty-Eight's watch?" Longbottom blurted, recognizing the particular make and model favored by one pureblooded family. Unlike normal watches, it had stars as the clock's hands. "Why do you have a Prewett's timepiece?"

* * *

Professor Longbottom's Intended nestled deeper into the embrace when the intimidating, slitted gaze loitered upon her head, as if silently demanding her to finish what she had started. Gathering courage from Neville's arms, Hannah kept quiet.

"Mrs Weasley gave it to me as my coming-of-age tradition," the Head Auror answered curtly. His explanation made Hannah's guilt resurface like an old sore. It wasn't until she saw Professor Hagrid being forced to carry Harry's dead body like a grisly trophy that she felt devastated for how horrid she'd been to him in their school years. It had increased in strength after she had time to think to herself in the Victory Celebrations that the wizard, who had been under no obligation to do so, had saved her life—in spite of her horridness.

Upon that realization, she made it her goal to be forever nice to the savior to make up for the nastiness she had participated in her naivety. Harry Potter, the once hailed Boy-Who-Lied, needed someone in his life to love him, to care for him, to believe in him. For the Weasley matron to give up a treasured family possession meant that she approved of him. She saw past Fred's death who died for Harry, to have approved the relationship between her daughter and Harry; it was something Hannah doubted she in the Matron Weasley's position would've been able to forgive him for.

Hannah wholeheartedly believed the fiery redhead would be perfect for the war hero. If only Harry would hurry up and rekindle their relationship….

Snapping his pocket watch shut, Harry shared, "It's half-two. I doubt there'll be time to visit the Quidditch pitch. Alright, Neville. We'll accompany you. Lord Sesshomaru, please desist from frowning at Abbott. Hufflepuffs are decent folks."

Her heart warmed at his words. Because she carelessly ducked her head in Sesshomaru's way to hide her blushing, she was the only one to witness the creature's response when Harry went on to say, "We're only to growl at bigoted Houses targeting Slytherins for their lingering dark reputation. Come, Lord Sesshomaru. Let's introduce you to another Scotland Wonder."

Like a giant, menacing shadow, the ambassador set off for Hogwarts; his long, unnaturally-colored hair trailing after him like moonlight that would've made Parvati sigh.

Neville nudged her forward. With no one paying attention to her, she ruminated. There was something to the handsome magical creature that, in spite of his humanoid appearance, made him feel quite dangerous to have around.

Not only had he been taciturn, there was this disdainful air around him that permeated the atmosphere, like he considered everyone beneath him, save one wizard. It was reminiscent of the superiority the fanatical of the purebloods had shown before the Aftermath. Hannah did not know what Harry had done to win his respect, but this Lord Sesshomaru reminded her of the hippogriff Professor Hagrid brought for their curriculum—the hippogriff that had only bowed its head to Harry Potter.

The grass crunched under her feet as she walked. Hannah had always thought the herd of intensely proud creatures humored Professor Hagrid with their seemingly domesticated nature. If they had truly been tamed, Malfoy would not have been attacked by one when it had been offended.

She'd seen witches and wizards change their opinions of their beast, being, and spirit counterparts, having come a long way since her first-year; having grown more accepting of the magical creatures in their society, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had eased up on their regulations. After 1998 and Hermione's insistence, they formed a shaky concord with one another. But not one wizard was under the illusion that they weren't tolerating creatures with an instinctual inclination for violence. The more intelligent the creatures seemed to be, the more dissatisfied they were of their situation with their human overseers.

She, like most of the wizarding public, was waiting for the day the media published the eventual repercussion and the domino effect that would follow.

So it wasn't until later in the night when it was just her and Neville in their living quarters that Hannah voiced her feelings of Harry's newest colleague, and Neville laughed off her Hufflepuffish fears.

* * *

There was an anticipatory air around Hari that only Sesshomaru seemed to have picked up. The two hanyous remained oblivious to their companion's growing discomfort. In an admirable effort to conceal it, Hari engaged Longbottom in polite conversation about the professor's station, and made attempts to do the same for the female. But aside from her admission she was now the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron, she remained too petrified by the demon lord to respond to Hari's questions.

Sesshomaru peered in the general direction of what Hari had deemed the Forbidden Forest. Their newest traveling companions were masked with Hari's protective claim, enough to distinguish them from most of the villagers but faint enough that they didn't qualify as his pack. The hanyous had professed the castle grounds to be an educational institution for their society; for the green-eyed daiyōkai to dye the castle looming overhead with his distinct, powerful yokai, Lord Hari must've considered it his second home.

Perhaps his contempt of the future had been premature. Molten gold took in the wide expanse of greenery around them.

To the future hanyous' credit, they've managed to maintain the natural splendor that had existed in feudal era. The familiarity of this country's palace, its grasslands, its village, the sentient tree, and its primitive huts and lodges—which were only outshone by small architectural advancements—provided comfort for the five-hundred year old daiyōkai, who had resigned himself to expecting another version of the chemical and metal atrocities seen in the human cities.

To make up for his Intended's silence, Longbottom explained the structure of Hogwart's House system to Sesshomaru. To his understanding, there were four sub-clans: the Gryffindors (which Hari and his packmate and Longbottom were aligned with), the Hufflepuffs (which Longbottom's Intended was from), the Slytherins, and the Ravenclaws. The sub-clans belonged to two clans, those of the Order of the Phoenix clan (which the four belonged to) and those of the Death Eater clan, both of which stemmed from two overall tribes made up of either generally Light Wizards or Dark Wizards. These two tribes had fought each other over dissenting opinions over blood purity for decades, ultimately culminating with Hari's victory over the Dark Lord. Specifics of their timeline were implied, but Sesshomaru was able to get the gist of it despite Hari's constant subject switches. He was looking forward to meeting this Minister of Magic, who bridled Lord Hari himself under his supreme reign.

As Longbottom prattled on about his class syllabus with much fondness, Sesshomaru soon came to appreciate the warrior hanyou's proclivity for the simpler life, after his reasoning was delivered. It seemed this Longbottom, who had served under Hari, had a gift with plant life. The retired lieutenant general was hoping to put his gifts to good use and to educate the next generations—no matter what their magic allegiances were—of an overlooked art that had been put to use in the Second Wizarding War against the Death Eaters. Longbottom's loyalty to his "wizardkind" was…commendable, reminiscent of Inuyasha's allegiance pledged to a human village.

That was as far as he got, because it was then that Hari's name was shouted from the heavens—Hari's expression contorted into a grimace—and a hanyou with a shockingly-red mane streaming behind dived down on an eccentrically-designed flying contraption to meet them.

His memory jogged from all the times he'd been startled and requested to curb his murderous intent, Sesshomaru had been prepared this time for any unexpected arrivals. This slowly growing pinprick coalesced into a woman of petite stature. She was dressed modestly, which indicated to Sesshomaru her financial status. A brief glance over the state of her excited but nonviolent yokai reinforced his calm.

With one fell swoop, she latched onto Hari's arm. What immediately followed broke Sesshomaru out of his equanimity. Acidic poison simmered at the tips of his claws.

* * *

(A/N)- No, I'm pretty sure you're not thinking what I'm thinking. Heh. But finally we have nudged the plot along! Albeit we've only reached Hogsmeade…writing in his POV is exhausting. We'll see what he thinks of our second wave of HP characters and what he'll come think with prolonged exposure!

_**Kai19**_ has the right idea. I'm taking votes for Harry's Animagus form: a stag, canine, snake, bird of prey, or magical creature (like a griffin). Opinions?


	6. Chapter 6

(A/N)- Wow! What an incredible turnout! Thank you very much, _**Guest 1, yayacun, lurking247, Tenshi-Lily-Hime-Sama, lovelycrazy, SuOneOkRock, twilightserius, mer, Library Ghost 01, Guest 2, pirate0607, dragoncraft, Lesliebobo, Silvermane1, Yizuki, Guest 3, Vom, Yuki, Kai19**_, _**Compeki, blackwolfgirl88,**_ _**Bast Misao, Fk306,**_ _**mabidiso**_, _**aliengirlguy,**_ and_** Elfin69**_! I haven't been able to churn out this many chapters since…well, in forever! I'm so excited for what I have in store for you, I'm tempted to spoil it all! As thanks, I've made this chapter extra-long, whew! Umm, certain actions enacted by certain characters are only small previews of what is to come. They're still essentially strangers. In fact, there's a lot of foreshadowing here.

Some of you provided great insight I never would've considered before! After giving your feedback much thought, as well as HP canon and how well your election would entice or deter our proud Sesshomaru, I've finally decided on an animal I am very happy with. Plus some other surprises. Clues for Harry's final form will be scattered throughout as we accompany him on his journey toward his self-discovery.

For now, let's just say it has its mythological origins in death. Enjoy!

* * *

_**Green and Gold**_

Chapter 6

* * *

By no stretch of the imagination did she consider herself entitled. The youngest of the Weasley brood—the only female to have been born amongst six older brothers—there was a time when Ginevra Molly Weasley had searched for a meaning. She found it at the King's Cross in a boy named Harry Potter, in the blood-soaked boy who held her in his arms when she opened her eyes in the Chamber. It was every girl's dream to find that one someone special.

As she grew older and her rose-colored glasses rusted away, she tried to turn away from the boy with the famous green eyes. What could make her so special that the real-life hero that prevailed over the greatest Dark Lord to have existed could find happiness in her when there were others liable to fill her role? She tried to find the answer in Michael Corner, in Dean Thomas, but time and time again she found them lacking. There was a flame in her that burned bright, for the boy wizard who grew heartbreakingly jaded as the years went on.

When the hero who had always seemed so strong finally broke from his mentor's death and another's betrayal, she was surprised when he collapsed in her arms. His round spectacles were mushed against her collarbone as he sobbed as if he'd never let himself the emotional release before. She tried to place herself in his shoes. She couldn't begin to understand the amount of hurt and expectations he was feeling. There was nothing she could do or give Harry that would make his pain go away.

When she was a little girl, she like the rest of wizardkind had heard of stories where the heroic wizard's strength and bravery was bolstered by the witch or wizard he wanted to protect. Maybe, just maybe, she could become one of his reasons to fight. When Harry initiated a kiss, it was the happiest moment of her life. Come hell or high water, in that moment her selfish wishes and dreams were being fulfilled. She could pretend she was the girlfriend of the wounded hero that had captivated her so. She couldn't begrudge him of ending their relationship later, knowing deep down inside he was ending it for a stupid, noble reason. She confirmed it when he responded to her own passionate kiss, proving whatever he was doing was to keep her safe.

That meant he had to have loved her.

He, in higher spirits, left her and she could feel her earlier jubilation being taken with him. Locking away all that remained of the little girl who dreamt of her knight in shining armor, she emotionally prepared herself for the war that was to come. People were going to die. There was no place for the silly woman with a crush. But then she saw Harry's corpse. His body was so small, cradled in Hagrid's arms.

Rage had coursed through her and she wanted the Death Eaters to suffer the same agony she felt.

Life, after war, is not like what fairytales makes itself to be. Towering over the Dark Lord's corpse, the revived adult wizard, so strange in torn Muggle attire, looked so solemn and formidable as he gazed silently at the fallen wizard. There almost was a permeating aura around Harry that created an invisible, impenetrable fortress as he paid his final respects, barricading him from the congratulatory masses swarming toward him, her being one of them. She couldn't hear the words that passed through his lips through the throng of bodies but Harry looked…almost regretful.

In the Aftermath, they've never quite had the chance to reconcile. There had been funeral arrangements to tend to, schooling to finish up, exciting job interviews and press conferences…their immediate priorities didn't align. She had two terms of education left. He left immediately to join an auror post upon public demand. The only time they managed to be in the same room was at Gringotts, on decree by their Acting Minister for any children of notable descent to undergo their Inheritance Rites which had been delayed from the war efforts.

She had been sitting down with her brothers when Harry marched out of the Head Goblin's office with an unreadable expression on his face. She had made to go after him, but her brothers held her back and told her to leave the poor sod alone. Charlie told her Harry was probably shocked to find most of wizarding Britain indebted to him; George insinuated maybe he'd gotten quite a few marriage contracts, or offers or bribes to join the Potter family to other lineages.

The _Daily Prophet_ ran papers about his lineage the instant the family signet rings of Potter, Black, and an unknown nobility appeared on Harry's fingers. Cottoning on to her simmering jealousy, Ron had pulled her aside and sat her down, telling her there wasn't another heiress with designs to be the next Lady Potter.

Harry had found out he'd killed his distant cousin. That was all.

Ron and Hermione were quick to spread the truth, to nip the hype before it intensified. When she left to join the _Holyhead Harpies_, the craze had simmered down with Harry's quick ascension to the Head Auror position and their continued reliance on his "cleanup" missions; the public grew more accepting of their Savior's relation to the Peverells—a lineage long thought died off—to the fallen Dark Lord whom Kingsley Shacklebolt revealed to the press to have been Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. The Dark Lord had been a half-blood of Gaunt and Slytherin descent.

In Wales she'd owled letters to Harry, hoping a written correspondence would be enough to rekindle their previous relationship. She'd gotten brief return letters back, usually weeks later, all inscribed with the same message, each with a different trinket of the country he was in. Nice as the sentiment was, it failed to satisfy her in the few years to come.

The stitched golden emblem on the witch's dark green robes shimmered in the sun as she tucked her feet under her, and she encouraged the Cleansweep Eleven to go even faster. Ginny had been soaring above the Hogwarts grounds, idly making rounds as the students were putting the equipment away when she caught sight of someone she'd never thought she'd see so soon. She had shouted his name, praying that it really was who she thought him to be. The dark head turned up. Her heart had skipped a beat, and then pounded even harder when she realized it was true. Harry was back.

From her vantage point she could see Neville, Hannah, and a beautiful but oddly-dressed foreigner standing next to the wizard. Her clothes were Asian and her hair was a very pretty light blonde that looked like spun silk from above. Another Cho Chang? Feeling a bit at unease, Ginny's first instincts were to welcome him back with all the enthusiasm she could muster, to convey how unexpectedly thrilled and elated she was to see Harry after so long, and to snatch him away from the poaching female. Scowling at herself, she stamped down the familiar but highly-irrational green-eyed monster that came to life ever since Tom Riddle Jr's diary cajoled her and fanned the embers of jealousy she hadn't known existed deep within her.

Rejuvenated and now feeling somewhat frisky, she set her sights on the wizard and urged her Cleansweep to faster. Reaching down, she grabbed his forearm and then slid her hand down to his in a vice grip. For that brief second, something inside of her melted.

He looked so tired.

Her grip on the broom tightened. She knew how to bring him out of his brooding mood.

Gently hovering for but a milosecond, she then kicked her feet against the grass and they took off into the skies with a whoosh. The wind roared in their eardrums, their robes flapped loudly from the ascent. Her worries faded away the higher they got. Laughing wildly almost without a care in the world, Ginny yelled, "C'mon, Harry! Lift yourself up and climb on behind me! Are you a Seeker or not?"

She felt his hand in hers slacken, and then squeezed in a crushing hold. Sure enough the wizard swung his leg over the broom handle and heaved himself up, using both her hand and the broom's bristles as leverage. His body was a warm furnace behind her despite the distance between them. Perturbed by his unresponsiveness, she turned her head and saw that he was looking down behind him. "Harry?" she asked, jerking the broom to a stop.

His arms came around her and he grasped the broom ahead of her hands, wresting control away from her. They'd lurched right when a blur of white and red shot forward to where she had been moments before, melting away a chunk of her hair, and at its side Ginny couldn't hold back the scream of terror when slitted gold—Nagini's eyes—refocused to glare right at them. A gloved hand covered her mouth, and she could feel Harry pressing against her back as the broom spun so that they faced the flying creature straight ahead.

A striped hand glowing Avada Kedavra green lunged toward her.

The broom was twisted again and this time Harry, in the front, grabbed ahold of the creature's wrist, stilling its attack from its intended target. Horrified brown focused on the cloud emitted from the glowing claws which sizzled and steamed ominously inches away from her face. The scent of ozone hung thick in the air, clashing with the noxious fumes which made her eye water. Upon closer inspection of the eerie figure, recognition sparked within Ginny's frenetic mind. It was the foreigner she'd seen down below. Responding her to her silent will, the jet-black wand slid down from her holster and slammed into her palm.

Before she could swish it, the hand that had been covering her mouth shot down and stopped her from using it for their protection.

Ginny opened her mouth to protest but it was the quelling fierce look in the wizard's gaze that made her mouth slam shut. It was the same look she'd seen on him in the battlefield. Muffled shouts emerged beneath, and Ginny looked down to see Neville and Hannah running up to them below.

The rustle of clothing alerted her that Harry had returned his attention back to their attacker. Fear unfurled deep within her now that Harry's face was up close to the tattooed monstrosity. Undeterred by the green fumes wafting into their faces, much to her shock Harry bade, "Lord Sesshomaru, calm. It is not an attack. I have the situation under control. She is under my protection. Calm. Down."

Slanted gold shot back at her, raked her down from head to toe and, much to her annoyance, found their situation to be a mildly humorous joke if its little derogatory upturn of his mouth said anything about it. She involuntarily cringed back against Harry. It then dismissed her when its gaze refocused back onto the steely Head Auror. The tall creature finally resettled its attention down on their point of contact, where gloved hands met pale flesh and magenta stripes. The green glow dulled as slender claws flexed experimentally, rubbing the colorations against the leather but Harry did not let go.

The witch startled when a deep voice purred, "This Hari is immune to my poison."

Both lords appeared confused as Ginny gasped, gripping Harry's shoulder. She whispered urgently into the wizard's ear, "Of course, you were bitten by Slytherin's basilisk! Its venom is one the most fatal in the world. Surviving it, you could've developed immunity to most poisons."

Bright brown orbs flashed to the opposite party. "And I think his corrosive poison is the same as the basilisk. You're breathing it in, idiot!"

Harry's eyes widened and he immediately released his hand from Sesshomaru, flying away a few inches back. The shouts increased in volume. The wizard inclined his head to the ground below, and the foreign lord gave his silent consent after a long and lengthy stare. The breeze picked up, flinging their hairs and loose clothing around the three figures followed the pull of gravity. With a tight smile, the wizard rejoined aloud, "I'm as surprised as you are. So this Sesshomaru can fly and poison enemies. I'm expecting for more revelations along the way from you."

"Hn. This is the unclaimed female Longbottom's Intended spoke of," Sesshomaru inserted unconcernedly, giving her a hard-pressed expression as they drifted down. A flicker of envy throbbed within her at how graceful he made it look.

Ginny sent Harry a confused look when the troubled wizard tapped his fingers against her hip distractedly, gathering his thoughts. Her terror waned. She bit her lower lip, holding back an appreciative groan. Harry had grown up nicely. Before he would've blurted out the first thing on his mind or stumbled for an explanation. Brown eyes lingered on his lithe muscles and broadened shoulders—a Quidditch player's build—pressed against her, and the messy mop he had grown out similar to their Triwizard Tournament days. To her pleasure, he had lost all traces of baby fat and had sharp, definitive features that accentuated the gap between the boy that he was and the man he is today. She was quite pleased that her head now reached inches above his clean-shaven jaw.

Harry's fingers stilled and he illuminated, "Lord Sesshomaru, this is Ginevra Molly Weasley, the youngest daughter of Weasley ex-nobility. Sorry about the strange first introductions. She means no harm by her 'unconventional' welcoming. She is…before the final battle, Ginevra and I…we had sincere intentions of courting. We broke it off before Voldemort took her as my weakness."

"Did you also have the sincere intentions of getting us back together?" she demanded unsteadily, dealing the question that had been plaguing her for years. She leaned back against his chest for comfort and she peered up at him, her nails digging into the wood. She refused to look at the lord of creature heritage across from her.

Green eyes tensed. But Harry didn't bother to respond to the statement like Ginny would've liked him to. Under Sesshomaru's rather intense, slitted gaze (when she peeked, his pupils were still dilated, much to her dismay), as they landed back at the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest Harry continued, "Gin-Ginevra, this is Lord Sesshomaru of the Western Lands. I'd been showing the ambassador around wizarding Britain before our press conference at the Ministry. Contrary to what happened, he's been quite alright to everyone he has met, considering his circumstances."

* * *

The marks where Hari had touched tingled pleasantly in its wake.

For another yōkai to be resistant to his feared toxin, even if Hari hadn't suffered the physical contact, was remarkable and perhaps unheard of. But to Sesshomaru's wonder Hari's exposure to it seemed to have worked through the daiyōkai's system with no ill effects; no immediate sign of developing a fever; no sign of his immune system shutting down; no sign of organ failure.

He studied Hari's profile from the corner of his eye. Hari was treading on dangerous grounds, to be subtly enforcing his constant discipline on this Sesshomaru. From his superficial effort to liberate the captured lord from the female's clutches, he'd confirmed one thing—Hari's demonic potential had yet to be fully realized. The young lord had reacted instinctively to his assaults, just barely dodging his offenses. It must have been a fluke when Hari caught his wrist, because in that moment he'd unleashed his full speed, a swiftness no lesser yōkai or human have been able to match.

His mouth twitched up humorlessly. The sleeves of his kimono felt blessedly cool against his heated skin. His first reaction had been to tear his arm away and cut Hari down for his forwardness. Yet the yokai around the daiyōkai indicated only defensive measures have been taken. Though the sensitivity of his markings was a detriment to his experiment, the result had established the lord's innocence. The young lord didn't comprehend the significance behind a daiyōkai exchanging contact with another daiyōkai's markings.

His eyes narrowed as a whiff of female arousal and fear drifted to his awareness. Through her private explanation to Hari, Sesshomaru gathered enough intelligence to format the bare bones of a justification.

The toes of his boots landed on the grass lightly. He observed as Hari stepped down from the broom and turned around to help the hanyou down from the contraption, offering a courteous hand. Staring incredulously at him, the redheaded whelp ignored the gesture and jumped down herself shakily.

By that time Longbottom and his Intended had caught up to them. The three hanyous remained in the dark, too caught up in their ensuing conversation about the female's hair—of all things—to notice the younger daiyōkai who had dropped his proffered hand to her perceived rejection. For Hari to stand to be continually slighted from the youngest Weasley, while it escaped this Sesshomaru why he would, he must be very indulging of the child's unreciprocated desires for him, because of their preceding association and their age difference. For one miniscule moment, Sesshomaru pitied the other lord.

"This Hari is very accepting of his former Intended's conduct," Sesshomaru dissented quietly to Hari, trusting that his voice was back in control. He could not place himself in Hari's shoes. No self-respecting demon lord would want to marry a pup who wore her hair down and unornamented like a common woman, especially one who would give him mixed signals.

Also no yōkai worth his salt would've been able to deny the fallout that occurred between an alpha and his once-packmate. They do not smell of a mated couple nor were they Intended like Longbottom and his female. The miasma Hari had placed around her had prior evidence of being the same on his packmate—perhaps even stronger, judging by the flare of frayed yokai eager to rejoin Hari's—but Hari had made efforts to cull its potency so that now all that remained on her merited an inconsequential distinction higher than everyone else in the village.

His attention immersed in the other conversation—mostly subsisting of the redheaded spitfire asking what it took for the other female to have attracted Longbottom from a Luna—it took time for Sesshomaru's words to register. When they did Lord Hari blinked slowly and he tilted his chin upward. He considered his next few words carefully. "I guess I have to thank you for coming to my defense. Appreciative as I am, I didn't want to escalate into violence. Not if it isn't deserved or warranted. Or under mistaken assumption. A lot of my wizarding companions jump to wrong conclusions."

The emphasis was noted. Sesshomaru had discerned the wand the female whelp had drawn, and Hari's subsequent termination of her intended attack. While he held her down, Sesshomaru had taken that split-second opportunity to take her out. It wasn't until contact was made to his markings that the demon lord was too stunned to launch his next offense.

As if expressing a belated interest in Sesshomaru's lineage, half-lidded orbs of forest green were now focused inquisitively upon the blue crescent marking on the his forehead. He felt his cheeks heat a little at the remembrance of his touch. With a genuine grin Sesshomaru found himself quite charmed by, Hari also shared, "The Weasleys and I go way back. They've never been ones to conform to societal traditions, like it or not, Lord Sesshomaru. When offered to restore their titles, they refused. For some time they were considered to be a lesser family by several pureblood circles because of their acceptance of Muggle-borns and humans without magic. My parents thought the same about blood purities. They knew better."

The smile descended into a rueful ghost of what it had been. "We're related through our Black ancestries. Ron and Ginevra are my third cousins. Not that it matters, but I was surprised when I found out. Actually all purebloods are interrelated somehow, since we are small numbers."

Somehow Sesshomaru wasn't surprised if it was for this human reason that Hari dropped his interest. Molten gold shot to their advancing party. So this little bride-hopeful wanted to interbreed within her bloodline, setting her sights the highest it could go. Sesshomaru couldn't fault her logic. He'd known several yōkai that mated within the family—whether be it father or mother, sister or brother, or cousin—to keep a dying line pure. Fortunately for them, their demonic blood would cleanse their heirs of any genetic impurities that presented in incestual human couplings.

Reminded of the numerous females that were once paraded before him for his Coming of Age Ceremony, he said instead, "Communicate this Basilisk she spoke of."

Sesshomaru felt Hari's heavy gaze wander down sideways, resting on his maroon stripes. Subduing a small sigh at the young's penchant for inquisitiveness, he turned his jaw in his direction, allowing for a clearer analysis of the mark on his eyelid and the two on his cheek.

There was a suggestion of sated amusement as Hari divulged, "You probably had a different name for them in the Western Lands. But for us, the founder of Slytherin tamed what the wizarding community considers a King of Serpents, a giant reptile that can kill with a gaze and petrify with an indirect glance, whose fangs…well, you've heard her. Nasty piece of work if you don't speak...if you weren't Slytherin's Heir."

He rubbed his arm absently, and the demon lord recognized it as the origin of the bite mark. "It was my second year, when a memory of Voldemort released Slytherin's pet under orders to kill all that the Heir had deemed unworthy to be taught magic. Ron and I had intentions of subduing it, to cure the petrified students and to stop Voldemort's possession. Luck was on our side."

"Yet your hand was forced," Sesshomaru determined, peering at the sleeve covering Hari's left arm. As if sensing his interest, Hari moved the limb behind him as if subconscious of his old injury. Possession, a daiyōkai's involvement, a hanyou's contribution…this Voldemort character was slowly being fleshed out in the demon lord's mind as the future's incarnation of Naraku. The parallels between their two conflicts were uncanny. With that kept in thought, he identified, "And this Voldemort had the ability to create incarnations of himself from his body and housed them in many vessels. You sought them."

Startled, suspicious green eyes jumped to meet his molten gold, and that challenge made the yokai in Sesshomaru howl with predatory bloodlust. He dug his claws into his palms, curbing his instinctual reaction. He took an involuntary, dominating step closer.

Hari stood his ground. Well-attuned to this Sesshomaru's distress, he placated smoothly, "Calm, Lord Sesshomaru. I do not mean to challenge your authority. I'm just stunned you knew out the Horcr—"

The younger lord collected himself. Lowering his voice circumspectly, Hari shared, "—Alright, I'm not going to ask you how you'd known about them. If I were you, I'd keep that to myself. When I said I'm going to help you, I keep my promises. For now, play along. It might be several years since the war, but certain people in my company are still suspicious of any association to Death Eaters."

Sesshomaru had managed to wrestle his hostility down when forest green settled upon the redheaded hanyou trudging toward him with purpose. "Her being one of them."

Hair still unrestored to its former length, the female hanyou moseyed up to Hari. The dog demon felt viciously satisfied with himself. Now she appeared as the commoner that she was, with her previously glorious red mane shorn short and lopsidedly. Hari took her proximity with a hint of exasperation, Sesshomaru had deemed, looking at his downturned mouth. To his bemusement the female also sensed her lord's black mood, for she came to a halt. Shuffling insecurely, she directed a slightly fearful glare at the demon lord, as if blaming him for Hari's ire. The stronger-than-average yokai was volatile around her, seething with unrepressed displeasure and jealousy. Sesshomaru repressed a smirk. The whelp seemed to have determined him as competition for Hari's attentions.

Hesitating only slightly, her mouth firmed into a thin line and she stamped forward to latch onto the younger lord's hands.

With an intentional pout the female peered up at Lord Hari under her lashes, standing up on her tiptoes and arms curled around the lord's shoulders. The demon lord recognized the set as the most preferred trick many of the simpering demonesses had utilized on this Sesshomaru. His eyes narrowed.

Under a softened accent, she posed shyly, "For the first time in forever, you're not covered in blood. It's nice to see you've finally gotten a break from saving the wizarding world. How long are you going to be here, Harry?"

The younger lord immediately plastered on an insincere smile, his hands kept in his pockets despite his desire to erect a physical barrier between them. To fill up the awkwardness between them, he rambled, "I'm still on duty actually. As much as I'd love to stay here, Ginevra, I've loitered too much. I have to get going with the ambassador. As of this moment. For an important press conference Hermione expects us to show up to."

Her small rosebud mouth frowned and as if to go against him, she demanded, undaunted, "Your press conference can wait a bit if you have time to traipse Hogwarts grounds with your ambassador." Her arms tightened like a noose. "That pathetic attempt at avoiding me aside, why are you suddenly being so formal? What happened to just calling me 'Ginny?' Harry, I'm not stupid y'know? You've become so distant. After the war... You, _we_ weren't like this before."

"Ginny, you've had a long day," Longbottom the warrior hanyou blustered, placing his hands on her trembling shoulders. His prior cheerful disposition shifted into one of genuine compassion and sympathy. Longbottom missed the small, relieved nod Hari surreptitiously sent him. "I know it's been years since you've last seen each other, but I don't think Lord Sesshomaru needs to hear about this."

His Intended supplemented uselessly, grabbing her hand, "You two can always talk about this later. In private. C'mon, let's go to Madam Pomfrey or Professor Slughorn and whip up a hair tonic to regrow your hair."

"Neville, Hannah, nose down. This doesn't concern you." The child shrugged them off and she gripped Hari's lapels with tight fists. The hanyou couple took a simultaneous step back, cowed by her sudden anger.

Knuckles whitening, she repeated, "You hadn't answered my first question. I just got back. Did you…," she bit her lips, gazing unsteadily at Hari with old expectations plain in her eyes, "…intend on getting us back together?"

The blank expression in Hari's eyes faltered, and then shattered. As if crumbling into himself, he murmured, "Ginny, Neville and Hannah are right. I don't want to talk about this yet. I don't think you're…we're ready for this."

"I'm not ready for what?" the young Weasley repeated frostily. Coming to an epiphany, her face went scarlet. "Is it because of our blood relation? We're third cousins! It doesn't mean anything in the wizarding world!"

As if realizing the scene she was making, her expression twisted and she backed down. Taking shallow breaths, she bowed her head against his chest and she said with no small amount of irritation, "Alright, I'm not going to jinx you for that. Out of necessity, you broke up with me. It's not like anything you tell me is any worse than that. I asked you a question, Harry. Please...don't string me along. Are we or are we not getting back together?"

"I strung you on?" Hari repeated disbelievingly. He sounded as if he'd been punched. His fists clenched, straining against his pockets. "We're not. Don't be daft. There's nothing to string you with if we already broke up!"

"Then why not?" she demanded, hackles rising. "The war's over. We don't have to worry about Vol-Voldemort after me!"

"This isn't about you! I don't have time for this! My priority is to keep a lookout for Lord Sesshomaru!"

"WHY IS THIS SUDDENLY ABOUT HIM?"

The situation was descending into madness. A tic developed near the dog demon's brow. Her behavior was rapidly reminding Sesshomaru of all the not-so-bright bird yōkai that became irate whenever he spurned their interest in him. He glanced at the two hanyous rendered helpless at their quarreling. If he hadn't conditioned himself out of that habit in his youth, he would've rolled his eyes at their uselessness. But it had been the hardened, enraged look burgeoning in those bright green pools that made Sesshomaru answer for Hari, "This Hari is not interested in you. Now cease this foolishness. He has no time for your idiocy or excessive attachment."

After all Hari had pledged his allegiance to this Sesshomaru. If Sesshomaru had his way, he'd dedicate all of his night and day to keeping this Sesshomaru satisfied. It had been good to hear Hari deemed him a priority to be placed above this woman-child. That being said, he ordered magnanimously, "Unhand your lord, whelp."

"My lord? I don't have a lord, you very rude, forward tosspot." Weasley blurted testily, much to his disbelief upon the child's disrespect. She spun on her heels—Sesshomaru was slightly pleased she got the hint—and she crossed her arms, her back to them. Her shockingly-red mane shook. He scented tears in the air.

He sighed heavily within his mindscape when Hari immediately looked concerned. The young lord was easy prey to female and sometimes male theatrics.

"What happened between Harry and I are _our_ personal matters," she challenged this Sesshomaru once more, undeterred by his warning growl. With red-rimmed eyes, she snarled, "We don't need you to air it out like dirty laundry. _Lord. Sesshomaru._"

If she hadn't been a child under Hari's protection, the demon lord would have made her crawl on the ground like the worm she was, and have her filthy mouth lick his and Hari's boots to plead for their forgiveness. The whelp was unable to take in the sad reality that her lord desired no courtship with her. But to her credit she made an admirable effort to quench her distasteful crying, rubbing at her eyes harshly. Her red lips slashed down. "Y'know what, fine. Go. Use your ambassador boyfriend as your excuse, Harry. We'll have to talk about this later."

All the concern Hari had felt for her died upon those words. The future lord pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ginevra, you're being ridiculous."

Her shoulders trembled and suddenly her flying contraption slammed into her palm with a loud, fleshly smack. Mounting the large stick—Sesshomaru suspected it to be the 'broom' Hari's packmate had been talking about—she sailed off into the skies without another word. She circled ahead over them like a vulture. Sesshomaru slid his concentration back to his supposed escort, who appeared rather weary of her childish antics. That was the last straw, in his mind. The lord who had done nothing but been courteous to him all of last night and this day didn't deserve any more of her insolence. This time, he did not react in violence. Instead to play with the impertinent whelp some more, as reprisal for her insulting insinuations, Sesshomaru shifted a little closer until his hand almost brushed Hari's.

Green pools flickered down to peer at the source of the increase in body heat. With a self-deprecating snort, Hari murmured, "That went well. Lord Sesshomaru, meet Ginevra Weasley, my ex-girlfriend and quite possibly the physical incarnation of Lily Potter, my mum. Sorry about dumping our emotional row on you. If you're lucky, unlike me you won't get to meet her again."

The smaller demon turned to address the two remaining hanyous, charging them not to withhold their visitation from the children—Longbottom disclosed he couldn't deny his students news of the great Hari Potteru appearing just outside their Forbidden Forest—and to put in a good word with the Headmistress for a future tour of the castle.

The remaining female pleaded for Hari not to take Weasley's words to heart; she'd been under a lot of stress. There was also a mention of it being her time of the month, which confused Sesshomaru greatly. Hari neatly side-stepped all further entreaties and inquiries, bidding the couple a polite goodbye and a promise to visit soon.

Sesshomaru was now in a situation where he could only stare at the lord's extended arm, as if he were the submissive. Giving him a hard look, he listened as Hari explained tetchily that a _Side-Along Apparition_ can only be performed if the more able party teleports with the other party holding onto their arm. In order to avoid _Splinching_—explained to be an accidental separation of random body parts or clothing—since Sesshomaru was unable to _Apparate_, he must hold onto Hari as firmly as possible. Now unless if they wanted to run back to the Shrieking Shack or rely on Sesshomaru to carry him on his back shouting directions, this Sesshomaru had to tolerate the gesture.

Lips curling, the five-hundred year old dog demon seized the younger demon by the elbow with a punishing grasp. With hardly a flinch, Hari recapped his packmate's earlier caveat to him about what to expect in the same detached tone. When he gave his consent to continue, within minutes their bodies twisted away and had it not been for the fabric underneath his claws, he would've thought Hari had been sucked away. His vision went dark and his chest and skull was being compressed into a small, hollow compartment.

* * *

Hari made sure to tell him, rather mercilessly, that he was impressed that this Sesshomaru didn't bend over and vomit like most first-timers. His eyes squeezed shut, the tall figure clung to his pride and had merely dug his claws into Hari's arm to stop himself from falling over after the wizard teleported them before an broken-down red wood-and-glass box. Hari informed him it was a telephone booth, the sight common in Muggle London.

One golden pool cracked open, and he treated the younger daiyōkai to another impressive glower. A brief scan of their surroundings indicated they've landed on a dirty stone road with shabby architecture and a wall scrawled with nonsensical, colorful squiggles. Another inhale told Sesshomaru they were back in human territory, but the stench of filth was worse here than in the future Western Lands.

"One would think," he spoke slowly, carefully against his nausea, "to be in an open-roofed entrance hall or a court inside a large space."

"Before Voldemort's coup, Ministry workers could've Apparated directly into the Atrium," Hari affirmed shortly, quickly ushering them into the enclosed box and shutting the door shut behind him with a quiet click. The dog demon's bulky apparel pushed the two uncomfortably close. "Shacklebolt hadn't gotten around signing the papers to get that fixed yet, so you'll have to put up with our close proximity. I'll try to make this last as short as possible, if it turns out you're claustrophobic. Remember, you have to play along."

Hari's dark curls were pressed against his nose as the smaller daiyōkai twisted to punch in the digits 6-2-4-4-2 (the heat in his eyes made the foreign characters writhe in his vision before the translation spell did its function). Subtly sniffing Hari's indefinitely more pleasing, natural fragrance to rid himself of the earlier-scented disgusting odor which didn't help his squirming insides, Sesshomaru shifted into a more comfortable position. Mokomoko-sama was allowed to uncoil and gently cushion the back of their heads, like soft furry pillows. The tenseness in Hari's shoulders softened.

His rare act of generosity proved to be a wise action later when a bodiless female greeted them—the sudden voice made Sesshomaru's head jerk against the paneled door—and asked them for their names and for them to explain what the purpose behind their visit was.

"Lord Potter Black Peverell and Lord Sesshomaru. We're here to attend Hermione's press conference."

Two small silver shields were deposited, each inscribed with their names and objective. Under Sesshomaru's watchful eye, Hari pinned one onto his lapel and swiftly affixed the other onto the bottom of Sesshomaru's collar. Peering down curiously at the badge, he wondered if he could keep the shiny bauble for Rin. In the meantime the voice cheerily wished them a good day, before the telephone booth rumbled and with a moaning lurch it began its plunge below the surface.

* * *

The press buzzed with unrelenting queries as Hermione gripped her throbbing forehead to calm her massive headache down. She was not ready for this. The large reception hall had been filled to the brink with the invited media journalists. Hermione looked over her shoulder, scowling at the magical banner which had been spelled purple and depicted Kingsley Shacklebolt's beaming mug instead of Fudge's portrait in greyscale. To think the Acting Minister would discard her advice and allow that…that…Hermione couldn't come up with a nice word for her. At least the _Quibbler_ had been invited too, despite Shacklebolt's skepticism.

Before the golden fountain—which was commissioned to be crafted with perfect likeliness to a life-sized Harry heroically pointing his wand forward as if shooting a spell, with four of the original magic brethren guarding his back and the witch looking adoringly up at him and the phoenix on the wizard's shoulder—Hermione stood just outside the circular pool. The glistening streams of water chimed merrily behind her, belying her worsening mood. She wished she had a secretary or a speechwriter.

The last of the wizards and witches emerged from the left-hand row of gilded fireplaces, with rapid questions peppered out even before their arrival in gentle, green-lit swooshes. She chose to pretend not to hear them, which made them more agitated. Like ants, they swarmed closer to the middle of the hall, many taking stock of the golden symbols overhead, which had been temporarily spelled to act as a real bulletin in the peacock-blue ceiling above. The decorative runes twined together like smoke, spelling out PROVIDING INTERNATIONAL AID: HEAD AUROR HARRY POTTER DECLARES HIS OFFICIAL PROTECTION OF AN ASIAN AMBASSADOR, LISTEN FOR THE FULL STORY.

The noise level only increased upon the capital headlines, especially when it was used in association to Harry's name. Spelled quills started writing down their spellcasters' initial observations.

"Alright," Hermione lifted her face from her palm, casting a silent and wandless _Sonorus_ charm to amplify her voice, "settle down people. I'll tell you why you were called here if you'd just listen and. Quiet. Down. A bit."

When no one heeded her, the witch's cheeks flushed and she snapped, "I SAID, EVERYONE, BE QUIET!"

It became so quiet that the only sound that could be heard was the rush of water behind her and the occasional cough. The wizards shuffled on their feet. Finally the murmuring picked up again and Hermione felt infuriated that she'd have to ask them again.

The anxiety that had been balled up in Hermione's chest dissipated when the red telephone booth she'd been waiting for descended from above, delivering the two figures into the masses below. The select Ministry officials that had been ordered to lie in the shadows marched out upon that signal and they simultaneously casted a spell over the fireplaces, formally halting any unsanctioned attendances. The hooded wizards moved to do the same to the telephone box after the two came out.

When the two lords stepped foot onto the polished, dark wood floor, instead of making a path for them to her like she'd expected them to the wizardfolk crowded around them like moths drawn to a light. Questions were shot rapid-fire and in mushrooming rancor, demanding why their Savior was back, how his trip had been in Japan, who this Sesshomaru was, if he was half wizard and half creature status or was he full magical creature, why they were together, what the full story was, if the Death Eater he'd been hunting was caught, and so on and so forth amidst the fawning they heaped upon the poor Head Auror.

Harry tried to allay the presses, shoving through the thick crowd, keeping a firm hold on the demon lord's bicep so as to not lose him to the starving hawks. Several women cooed over the Sesshomaru's exotic looks and obviously lavish attire. One brave photographer jumped into their path and snapped a quick shot, intending to publish it for the front headlines of the _Daily Prophet_. A bright camera flash went off in the demon lord's face.

What happened after shouldn't have been a surprise for both her and Harry.

They watched with disbelieving eyes as the cloud of purple smoke was forced upward with a fluid swing of what had been a glowing whip the sickly green color as the most famous Unforgiveable. The large black camera fell to the floor with a booming clatter, effectively cleaved in two, its insides bubbling and sizzling and curling into itself before melting into a black puddle. With the air cleared, Hermione recognized the frozen figure behind the bold move. She couldn't remember his name but he was the same potbellied cameraman she'd seen accompanying Rita Skeeter whenever they had to do a piece for the _Prophet_. Hermione cursed improperly within her mind.

All interrogations and quill-writing fell silent. To Hermione's horror, she could see the conclusions some of the journalists were coming to, identified by their ambitious, calculating gleams on their pinched faces. They were already spinning a sensationalist story for their respective publishing houses. One particular beady set was anticipating how to embellish her next headlines.

When she saw slitted gold focus on the cameraman who was looking back at him trembling like a leaf and his sharp claws contracted, Hermione instinctively screamed, "Everyone, back off! He'll determine you as a threat to his safety!"

Heat erupted from the tip of her wand, hidden up her holster. Two vertical columns of comfortable seats popped out of nowhere, creating a large path for the two lords to escape to. Taking a deep breath to cool down her increased blood pressure, which wasn't good for the baby, she ordered, "Everyone, please. Sit down. This is making me very stressed. Have you no sympathy for my condition?"

The press and camera crew hastily split into their designated rows, each scrambling to get as far away as possible from the tall magical creature. Harry, thankfully, took advantage of their state of confusion and hauled the growling dog demon to their destination. He was still muttering words of comfort and conciliation when they pulled up to her. (Though she had to agree with Harry that what Sesshomaru did was something they both wanted to do for some time.)

Internally sighing in relief, the witch promptly went to diffuse the situation. She may not have notes like she would've liked to have had, but she could wing a short speech. The amplify charm still in effect, she drove in rather bluntly, with her frazzled voice reverberating in the cavernous room, "When you all decided to mob our esteemed Head Auror and his present company, you didn't give me the chance to explain the lord ambassador's dire situation. He is in Witness Protection, under our jurisdiction, as an informant from a federal investigation. Before I go on any further, for his safety please put away all cameras and recording devices. You may keep your Self-Writing Quills and notebook."

Rather predictably protests were thrown into the air.

In a no-nonsense voice she told them to sit their arses down and that unless they want the Ministry to confiscate their belongings, they will adhere to their request if they gave one whit about international cooperation. "I regret to inform you, since this is a high-profile case, that the Ministry will have to put restrictions over written content before any article is published and over the moving images recorded from Pensieves or any magicked drawings. We do not want this to reach certain Asian attention. Lord Sesshomaru—the warrior prince the ambassador has elected to personify—is only here out of courtesy to prove his sincerity to the British wizarding population. We can only provide the same consideration by showing him we can keep his identity a secret and hide him within our society without anyone finding out or limiting his movements."

Brown doe eyes slid to linger upon the infamous wizard, sending him a silent message. Just as they'd rehearsed. "Our Savior has been chosen to protect the ambassador and with his infamy, we felt that this press conference will clear the air and assist us in containing public awareness. We don't want the public to break out in mass panic."

A slender, feminine figure arose from the din of whispering reporters, dressed in portentous yellow. It was the familiar gleam behind her jeweled spectacles and the radiance of her golden, elaborate curls that Hermione recognized the witch for who she was. Dread settled deep in her gut like an icepick.

The journalist's signature acidic green quill was poised over a hovering parchment, ready to jolt down Hermione's response. With a red-lipstick smile on her heavy-set jowls, Rita Skeeter warbled sweetly, "How very moving, dear, for our Harry's newest charity case." She coughed into her fist delicately. "Naturally we'd want to collaborate with international forces, specifically if we get to cooperate with the attractive refugee our Harry is safeguarding. Alas as much as we'd love to know why our priority is to sic the babysitting responsibility on our best Head Auror—oh, sorry—_our Savior_ whose priority is to apprehend dangerous Death Eaters, I'm more concerned about the state of our freedom of press. What do you have to say about the restriction of our rights?"

With an icy stare directed at the quill, Hermione rebutted, "Funny you should say that, Miss Skeeter. Look at what happened before and during war. The press was horrid to the Savior and Dumbledore when they had been telling the truth all along. So that quill you're using, it's barred from this short interview. Please put it away before I'm forced to cut our proceedings here."

Rita clearly remembered the evidence Hermione lorded over her. Tittering nervously, red nails swiped the green quill from the air and was subsequently shoved into her crocodile-skin handbag.

"As I recall, if you all haven't completely slandered them," Hermione continued bitterly, crossing her arms, "we would've been more prepared for the war. Ergo, the Minister and I have no choice but to put forth a bill for media censorship to Wizengamot if you don't temporarily publish what we approve of you to reveal. We are serious at preserving the ambassador's safety."

Another reporter stood up and asked, "What about our safety? Seeing as Death Eaters still remain on the run, there is the potential of them coming back to our lands. What is your reasoning behind pulling Harry Potter from the line of duty and giving him orders to act as bodyguard to an Asian and not a British concern?"

* * *

Harry stepped up, and with the same spell applied to his throat, he commandeered their attention: "What Hermione means to say is that while we agree it is your job to inform the public, we want to make sure what is being said won't fall into enemy hands. There are plants in the Asian Ministries. We called you here because you're the best at your job and that's who we want to trust to disclose our story to. Under your fine…artistry, we seek to prove British craft are better than the slurs many international communities think we solely circulate. Like you, my employers consider me the best at my job and they trust me to guard one of their most important dignitaries."

Purposefully turning his head in Sesshomaru's silent but wary gaze, he shared wryly, "Fortunately Lord Sesshomaru has expressed his interest in our society. Rather than being cooped up in a foreign territory, I've been showing him around our community to help him integrate better into it. We'd just finished visiting Hogsmeade on our way to Hogwarts when we were called in. As for the Death Eater sighting in Japan, I've set up preventative wards around the source. If the alarms are tripped, my team and I will respond straightaway. In the meantime, my allegiance to wizarding Britain are still in effect."

"Alright, you've got the general idea of what you came for. They are on a tight schedule. Please forward all your questions to these gentlemen over here, if you have any," Hermione said, pointing to the Ministry officials from before. "We encourage that you do. What we'd revealed is so riddled with holes I'd be surprised if you could generate a well-written, balanced article. Once you have your answers, you are allowed to disband upon further notice. Thank you for coming and hearing us out."

A wave of protests started again. Several wizards got up on their feet, moving forward until the Ministry officials formed a human barricade, their cloaked royal purple forms pushing the writhing masses back. Their shouts were thunderous in volume. Sensing the riot that was about to break out from the media circus, Harry raised his wand into the air and shot a stream of red sparks which exploded in the air with a deafening bang. Several wizards ducked in reflex, expecting the worst. When he got all their attention, he dropped his wand and swept his gaze over the crowd from right to left.

In the most disapproving tone he could muster, as if he were dealing with unruly children, he disclosed, "I don't want to give our guest the wrong idea of how we British wizards compose ourselves. I can say for certainty the Japanese wizarding press are a lot more respectful than we are. The ambassador and I have had a tiring trip, having crossed continents. Let's leave him with a good impression, shall we?"

After much grumbling and silent coercion urged by the wizards cloaked in purple, the wizarding media left, shuffling to their next intended destination. With sighs of relief, Harry and Hermione canceled the spell on their voices before they sounded hoarser. If he didn't know any better, he would say this whole time Sesshomaru had been peeking at him before averting his gaze and pretending to be interested in something else, then repeating the process like a shy schoolboy. The attention was both adorable and worrisome. He turned his head.

To Harry's dismay, Rita had bribed her way past the folds of their one-line defense. He held back a grimace.

Harry thought she couldn't have sunk any lower than her insensitive publication of the _Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ a mere four weeks after his funeral. He'd been wrong. Following the Battle of Hogwarts, she released a biography about Harry, stuffing the pages with one-quarter truth and the rest of it rubbish. If that weren't enough, she churned out _Snape: Scoundrel or Saint?_ And the content in it made all that had known the truth's bloods boil.

She now weaseled up to them, batting her eyelashes at him and the demon lord, much to Harry's disgust.

Holding up her empty hands, she mollified, "Now, dears, let's not let our history put a damper on this interview. Let bygones be bygones, I'll say! As a gesture of my goodwill, I've put away my camera and my Quick-Quote Quills!"

In the distance someone else was attempting to get past the Ministry guards, raising a small commotion when he wasn't allowed to. Harry frowned. That indignant burr rang alarm bells through his head. With a deceptively stationary hand placed supportively on the small of Hermione's back and his body angled to cover the pregnant witch from any unforeseen attack, Harry rejoined, "What is it that you want, Miss Skeeter?"

Her green orbs glimmered, honing in on his protective gesture. Knowing her she'd already thought of how to publicize another scandal involving the Boy-Who-Won by his harmless movement. She simpered, curtseying shortly to him, "Oh no, my question is for Little Miss Perfect here. My ravid supporters in the _Daily Prophet_ are dying to know if the Ministry is sincere in enacting the media censorship."

The expecting witch smiled sweetly, her perfectly whitened teeth showing in a barely civil snarl. "We know better than to tickle a sleeping dragon. As a matter of fact I'm sure that's the Hogwarts' alma mater, if you bother to do your research. I promise you every minute you waste antagonizing me again and again, I'm a little motivated to _give in to my immoral urges_ and make due on my threat to report a little black beetle to the authorities for being unregistered."

The glistening pink face, even her red lips, were suddenly bleached bone white.

His concentration returned to their current conversation, Harry struggled to quell the instinctive vicious gratification he felt at Hermione taking her down a notch. She was only making the situation worse. When flattery didn't give Rita her results, she defaulted to her true colors, colors they hadn't known existed in her arsenal before until Aurors had found her disheveled form hiding in the ghettos. To make up for lost time and to generate quick cash, the amount of libel and slander she'd written in a short period was admittedly impressive.

Red talons twisting the crocodile-skin handbag like a coil of rope, Rita murmured forebodingly, "That's right, underestimate me while you still can. One day that won't be enough to stop me from revealing the truth about you nitwits. You're bound to mess up. And I'm looking forward to that day when I'm able to rebel."

"Miss Skeeter," Harry sighed before blood could be spilt, "shall we continue this later? You won't be getting a private interview, I'm afraid. Not when I reckon your presence is steadily making Hermione mad."

Switching her annoyed gaze at their time-traveling companion, Rita notified Sesshomaru slowly, as if he wouldn't understand her, in a falsely saccharine voice, "Dear boy, surely they've told you of their Triwizard tomfooleries. We have such history."

The five-hundred year old demon lord, who had been frowning at her, seemed to tussle with his amusement when Rita addressed him as a lad. He watched as Hermione informed the witch his actual age, which he reinforced with a sardonic little smile that no one wanted to be at the end of.

Her glassy green pinpricks boggled openly at him like a bug's. Saving face, the witch raked her eye up and down the lord's tall figure, and the new hungry gleam in her eyes had Harry feel unsettled. "Oh my, Lord Sesshomaru," she crooned almost flirtatiously, "forgive me. Sometimes I lose myself with our turbulent history and forget all those around. I'd be glad to send you copies of my articles. If you'd like. Or perhaps you'll consent to a…more private interview."

Sesshomaru's expression twisted into something ferocious. With ice running through his veins, sensing the immediate downturn of the royal dog demon's mood, Harry started furiously, "Alright, you will not be debasing—"

"Lord Harry, I'm so glad to have caught you!" a discernibly male, wobbly voice interrupted, physically purloining his hands and spinning the wizard in a merry-go-round. When the earth stilled, the tied-back shoulder-length white hair the texture of candyfloss drifted into Harry's vision and the wizard held back a groan. Their fingers still entwined, the lanky Xenophilius Lovegood bowed a great amount before Harry before letting go. He cheered, "Merry met! The nice man let me through to see you. Everyone's been up in a buzz babbling about you and your handsome new gentleman friend!"

Dizzyingly Harry staggered a little until he found himself deposited back at the tensed demon lord's side, who'd taken an aborted step back before determining the wizard was not a disease and stood his ground. Stumbling away from the giant boa, Harry steadied himself and shook Mr Lovegood's hands. With a strained but courteous smile, Harry remembered the huge chunk of memory they'd _Obliviated_ from him when he attempted to turn them in to the Death Eater authorities, he parroted robotically, "Mr Lovegood, it's nice to see you again."

"Nonsense, nonsense! No need for formality on my account! Especially not someone like you, my lord." the eccentric, slightly cross-eyed wizard exclaimed, flapping his hands at them. Pivoting on his heels, he performed a deep, respectful bow before Sesshomaru. The demon lord looked slightly appeased with the display of subservience. "And this lord, so honored to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you. Many great things."

He turned again and shook Hermione's hand. "And Hermione, my daughter talks so much about you. I swear it's all I hear beside Rolf and Harry. She's wanted me to warn you that pixies are ruining your relationship. Nasty little tossers, they are. Watch out for their sharp teeth. And now we have…"

Harry caught a glimpse of the same triangular eye fastened through a thin golden chain at Mr Lovegood's neck as he rotated wildly to address the last person. It flew out of Mr Lovegood's open coat, which was comprised of many different animal pelts. Mr Lovegood's sparkle died upon sight. In a semi-sane drawl, his prior excitement subdued, he said, "…Oh, it's only you, Rita. In my favorite colors no less. How's the head toadie of the _Daily Prophet_ been coming along?"

Red lips trudged up derisively. She appeared as if she wanted to burn all the yellow garments in her dresser afterward. "Xeno, darling, still have your head in the clouds, I see. Don't tell me your silly magazine still has its followers?"

Mr Lovegood laughed, holding up his coat. "Clouds? Silly, only children believe in the Altaria Conspiracy. I'm not surprised you do. It explains so much, _dear_." Spinning around again, he opened his arms and proposed to the wizard, "Now, Lord Harry, Harry, Harry. Would you consider consigning to a private interview with someone from the _Quibbler_? I have a trained, talented staff of editors and writers that do so much better than our _Daily Prophet_ counterparts."

As much as he was wary of being in the same room again with the traitor—the Memory Charm seemed to have affected more than what they'd intended—Harry couldn't resist sticking it to Rita Skeeter. With a large charming grin, he acquiesced, "I can't say no to the father of a good friend of mine now, as much as I fear bias. Mr Lovegood, you flatter me with your regard. Since I consider the _Quibbler_ to be…reliable, you have your private interview."

"Oh no, no, no," Mr Lovegood waved his arms up and down in an X-formation, making Harry's brows crease together in puzzlement. "Not you. I meant you lovely lord and the lovely Lord Sesshomaru both."

"O-oh." Harry frowned, glancing at Sesshomaru and at his claws. It wasn't hard to imagine the demon lord's buttons being pushed by the Lovegoods' trademark eccentricities. "Now that I'm not too sure about."

"Ah, you wound this old man. We'll ask innocuous questions. Besides, we love magical creatures or don't you remember? We'd be delighted to have you, Lord Sesshomaru." He bowed once more. As if in afterthought, he added, "You too, Lord Harry. I've heard so much about your corporal Patronus from my Luna, but it's so odd that the youngest wizard to have casted a full body Patronus isn't able to manifest his Animagus form yet. She's expressed that when she changes into a moon rabbit, it wants to play with yours."

A tic developed near Harry's jaw. That admission of him unable to take an animal form yet was something he wanted to keep from Rita's and Sesshomaru's ears. And Mr Lovegood had aired it like a casual forecast of the weather. The atmosphere around them shifted and buzzed for a bit, breaking the tense, cold air with a moderate suffusion of warmth.

* * *

Hermione had noticed Sesshomaru, who had been glaring daggers at Rita, now looked intrigued by the mention of Harry's Animagus form. He stirred on his feet impatiently, like a certain excitable young Metamorphmagus finding out something new and cool about his beloved godfather. Seeing the dog demon conspicuously dart looks between his escort and the two strangers that he looked like he didn't know what to make of and looking so lost, it had tugged on her heartstrings. It wasn't difficult to project herself in his position. She had been like him once, feeling sick not knowing anything about the magical world she was stepping into.

Whatever magic Harry had wrought, the demon lord was charmed by his wizard. A small niggling thought wormed its way into her head. If Sesshomaru was fond of Harry, he would do his upmost to keep in line before Harry got upset. If they bonded, they would need to find out personal things about each other. Making up her mind, she cast a Privacy Charm around the two of them so that a nosy slanderous reporter wouldn't catch wind of their conversation.

The slanted, slitted gaze instantaneously fixated itself upon her.

Calming her nerves, she leaned in and whispered, "At the time I didn't think to inform you about the nuances of wizarding politics and magic, Lord Sesshomaru. There are several advanced spells and abilities only powerful and determined wizards and witches can access." Wetting her lips, she posed, "You've seen Harry's stag Patronus, right? I'd be surprised if you didn't. It's one of his signature defensive attacks and method of communication. Old woodcuts and scrolls have depicted that since ancient times users of the spell has a long association with those fighting for a noble or lofty cause, with most elected to high offices because of that achievement."

The magical creature inclined his head microscopically. He divulged vaguely, "This Hari has explained to this Sesshomaru."

Her shoulders loosened in relief. "Oh, good," she breathed, cupping her hands below her stomach. Stalling for time, she murmured, "And I'm assuming he didn't tell you the significance behind being able to cast the charm and produce a corporal animal."

A dark eyebrow rose impatiently.

All the information was ready at her disposal. Channeling Miranda Goshawk, the celebrated author of the _Standard Book of Spells_ collection Hermione had memorized, Hermione explained excitedly, "The Patronus Charm is difficult to cast, with many witches and wizards unable to cast or conjure an animal guardian made up of partially-tangible positive energy force that takes the unique shape of whom they share the deepest affinity. Hari's mentor Dumbledore had a phoenix Patronus, so magical creatures aren't uncommon for the energy to embody, but extinct creatures are a rarity.

"No one may know concretely what their animal shape will take, and it's been known for the magical guardian to be subjected to change if the caster goes through an emotional upheaval of some sort. Some wizards have also disguised their animal form, for whatever purposes. Generally the shape the energy takes indicates a witch's or wizard's Animagus form, which is a learned skill where we are able to transform into an animal at will."

She flinched when Sesshomaru inhaled sharply and he shifted the balls of his feet, as if taking an aggressive stance. He parroted in commanding disbelief, "These Animagi you speak of, your kind has an inherent potential to take an animalistic shape."

As if offering an olive branch, she disclosed, "Every Animagus has distinguishing markings or colorations behind their form. Mine's a brown otter. And my husband's a Jack Russell Terrier—err, it's a small dog—and Harry's godfather was a big black dog, while Harry's mum and dad were a doe and a stag, respectively."

His lips parted, the only indication of his surprise.

Undeterred, Hermione prattled on, "But Rita, the bane of our existence and a blight on wizarding truth, is an unregistered Animagus." Brown orbs shot sharply at him. "You recall me threatening to oust her beetle form. It's not hard to catch her, if you know what you're looking for. In fact, if you ever see a black beetle and it has markings on it that look like her spectacles, chances are that it's her eavesdropping on you. In our world, an unregistered Animagus is abusing their ability if not monitored by the Ministry. That woman has been taking advantage of her anonymity and has been spying on various people to publish her brand of truth."

"A Triwizard was mentioned."

"Oh, don't buy into her rubbish. She took advantage of all the hype surrounding Harry, who really can't avoid the public's nosiness and shifting attitudes, and used his notoriety to bolster sales. She prides herself in her poison-pen stories which are based on speculation, false information, and misreported interviews—sometimes obtained illegally–without any scruples. She's ruined many reputations, including mine and Harry's. And Dumbledore, Harry's deceased and much loved mentor. To make her stop…I had to resort to blackmail. The penalty for failing to register with the Ministry is a sentence in Azkaban…our high security prison…dungeon guarded by dark creatures."

She noticed Sesshomaru gave her an admiring stare when she divulged, "And we used that chance to have her write what we wanted, to tide public opinion over. And to get people's heads out of their dug holes and realize Voldemort's resurrection wasn't a lie, so that we could rally against his forces."

"This Hari has troubles accessing his true form." A pensive air coiled around the royal dog demon.

His brows furrowed, he seemed to have reached a conclusion Hermione hoped had nothing to do with the miko-yōkai theory she'd introduced. To combat that, she was quick to say, "It's not a hereditary skill, if that's what you think. Just because Harry's parents were deer doesn't mean Harry is."

His face fell.

* * *

"This Hari's Patronus," Sesshomaru spoke slowly, rolling the foreign word in his mouth, "is a stag. The sorcery should be an indication of your other appearance."

It took a while for Hari to comprehend his insinuation. Turning away from the two bickering journalists, Hari looked up, peering at him with slight irritation. "So that's what you two were talking about. I assume she gave you the full lecture complete with some of my background?"

Hari's packmate nodded hesitantly, rolling her lips together and looking properly chastised. "I don't think it's bad to answer his questions, Harry," she whined, eyesight cast submissively downward. "I think we should be a good sport about this. We're not in Japan anymore, so telling him won't hurt."

Under the combined stare of both daiyōkais, Hari's packmate's characteristic pluck waned like a torchlight extinguished by the wind. She nervously wrapped her hands under her stomach and waddled away awkwardly. Before she could go any further, she was soon drawn into in the banter by a toxic barb. Incensed, she sided with the flamboyant, straggly male hanyou and the two hanyous launched into another stiff squabble, not unlike the occasions the elders in this Sesshomaru's council would descend into, against the female hanyou whose yokai had a tinge of insect energy.

He now understood why the yokai of Hari's packmate and the beetle hanyou felt slightly different from the villagers he'd met.

"Only certain wizardfolk are able to become Animagi," Hari's dulcet accent grudgingly divulged, drawing Sesshomaru's attention back to him.

Rubbing his throat, the younger daiyōkai was peering at the three hanyous with an air of resignation, not looking back at him. He had followed his packmate's counsel once more, which was another interesting characteristic of the lord to be noted. In a husky rasp, he continued, "We can only take the form of one animal, unlike a Patronus, and it is determined be the same inner-traits when the charm is used. Most folks decide to pass on developing this skill, because it's really not useful for us unless used for espionage or camouflage."

"That is not the case for you," Sesshomaru prompted.

"For me…" Hari sighed, running his fingers through his dark curls (Sesshomaru found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the same gloves that had touched him), "…I had a feeling that I would take after my parents. However something happened to me after Voldemort was killed. I would've guessed a great emotional upheaval if it weren't for my Patronus."

Sesshomaru tilted his head, mulling over his newest theory about the young demon lord. If it was confirmed, it would explain a lot of the inconsistencies he'd been privy to. "This Sesshomaru is listening..."

Licking his lower lip—one of Hari's nervous tells, Sesshomaru had discerned—Hari murmured, "It's just...I don't know if I'm imagining it but I feel…less like I did when I'd tried to save everyone's life. After the battle, I tried to lose myself in my job. If my younger self saw who he would become today, he wouldn't be able to recognize me. I've done many things I'm not proud of. There's this…."

At a loss of an adequate descriptor, Hari gestured to himself and rolled his wrist in the air, as if suggesting a round silhouette. When no words came to him, with a heavy sigh Hari dropped his hand into the pockets of his form-fitting equivalent of a hakama. As if someone told him a mildly amusing joke, he revealed, "There's this empty uncertainness in me. That's all I can think to say. The stag manifestation doesn't…suit me any longer." He shrugged. "I'm not my father."

The minuscule theory was watered even more in the dog demon's mind upon that admission. Sesshomaru skimmed his gaze up and down the lord across from him with sated pleasure. The reason why he couldn't detect what yōkai the demon was simply because Hari himself did not know his heritage.

Two purple paper cranes soared in the air, escaping from one of the Ministry lifts Hari had told him about prior to their arrival. Molten gold followed the flimsy human craft—Inuyasha's bitch taught Rin how to make one with her future colorful papers—until they hovered over the two adult hanyous. Pointed ears picked up on light footfalls that no one else seemed to have heard yet.

The squabbling stopped. With a confused frown, the fair-headed woman plucked the crane from the air with a loud crinkling noise and she neatly sliced it open with her red claws. The large man-child—Sesshomaru was left marveling how he ever came to sire a pup—simply looked at the creation in his hands with wonder. From the small miasma embedded in the parchments, which rose up like dual smoke twining sinuously in their individualistic little dances, they had to be official summons. The further she got into the memo, the more her back stiffened, until it seemed like a rod had been inserted up her spine. She crumbled the paper into a tiny ball and stowed it into her odd basket made of reptile hide.

Pushing her glasses up to cover her anxiety, she differed, "And I think that's my cue to leave. Oh imagine all the delicious news I've been missing out while I've wasted my time here." She giggled acerbically into her bright red talons, levelling Hari with another simper. "Taa. May we meet under different circumstances in our next encounter? Bring your friend too. The more, the merrier. No, I didn't mean you, Xeno, baby. You can stay behind."

"But Rita, we must be going to the same place!" the male beamed. "I'll accompany you!"

The unattached female looked like she would rather eat an insect than allow herself to be escorted by him. She dared one more look at this Sesshomaru before she hurried away, her yellow dress restricting her movement and her high heels clicking away against the polished wood floor. The male chased after her like a sunny Rin on sweets.

"Hermione, Lord Potter Black Peverell," a thin, dry sounding male piped up behind them. The newest hanyou to show his face bowed respectfully at his waist to Hari. For someone of his station, it was recognizable the freckle-dusted redhead was trying to overcompensate for his common blood.

His posture was painfully straight, unlike the ease true nobility possessed, and his attire was the metallic green equivalent of Hari's peculiar clothing—which no other hanyou preferred that mode of dress. This hanyou's yokai brook no doubt as to his bloodline. Yet Sesshomaru could tell this hanyou had some intelligence in his brain unlike the bride-hopeful he'd encountered earlier. His red hair was slicked back with a sort of odorless oil, showing off a wide forehead. And he wore a strange vision-enhancing contraption similar to the hanyou beetle Animagus', but with little horns at the ends.

Lord Hari, whose worries were alleviated after the two had gone, took a sharp breath upon the redhead's intermission. The false smiles he'd been bestowing like free candies all of today sprung up once more. "Lord Sesshomaru, may I introduce Mr Weasley Percy Ignatius."

After a long blink at Hari, the redheaded hanyou performed the same bow for the demon lord. He greeted, "Lord Sesshomaru, it is our pleasure to have you in our territory. I'm the Assistant Secretary to our Acting Minister of Magic. I'm here to bring you—"

"How in the world?" Hari's packmate gawped, performing a double-take. "Before I left for Japan, you were expressing your interest in broom regulations. What happened? You couldn't have performed that quickly of a jump from the Department of Magical Transportation to Shacklebolt's Assistant Secretary."

"—to Level 1." The hanyou made a pinched expression before his face cleared and he attempted the same pretentious disposition as before. He was rather like a prettier Jaken, if Sesshomaru squinted his eyes. They both had that self-important comportment and both mimicked their lord's dignified air. Pivoting on his heels to the two daiyōkais, the newest Weasley gestured to the back of the Atrium where a bored-looking receptionist was seated at a counter.

"The Acting Minister knows you've had an exhausting day, but he would like to have your company," he said instead, brooking no arguments. He bowed again and maintained his position.

With another sigh, Hari deigned the redhead with a nod. Placing a hand on the small of his packmate's back, he encouraged the female to move forward seeing as she was frozen with incredulity at the male hanyou's advancement. After his escort consented to this Acting Minister's bequest, Sesshomaru merely followed them into the back and into the row of gilded lifts, with the redhead dogging their steps.

* * *

(A/N)- I like to call this chapter: _Establishing People on Sesshomaru's Shit List_. Heh. So, much thanks to _**DevilDon'tCare**_ and _**Kai19**_ for inspiration on two sections in the chapter! Oh Harry, you're so shameless…ehehe. Has anyone read JK Rowling's admission that Harry should've ended up with Hermione, and not Ron?

Next up, Kingsley Shacklebolt! And Sesshomaru's resolution…. The plot starts getting heavy.


	7. Chapter 7

(A/N)- Seven chapters in and the interest in _Green and Gold_ is steadily climbing, it's been quite staggering! I especially give thanks to _**lurking247, LilSnowFairy, SuOneOkRock, lovelycrazy, aliengirlguy, Silvermane1, Tenshi-Lily-Hime-Sama, Kai19, mabidiso, Compeki, ashrk95, DarkenedRose24, LiveFreeDieWell, charm13insomnia, Silver Flyer**_, and _**Elfin69**_! Your feedback last chapter is much appreciated by this authoress and her starving plotbunny. If this keeps up, each chapter will end up quite lengthy. –laughs- As repayment for your interest!

So _**lurking247**_ reminded me of something. Both JK Rowling and Rumiko Takahashi have created such iconic characters I cannot help but want to shove all the cast into _Green and Gold_. So far twelve new HP characters have already been slated to take center stage. The relevant _Inuyasha_ cast on the other hand…time travel is a fickle thing. If not already planned, usually any remaining character will spontaneously insert themselves whenever I'm writing the newest installment. Currently I have everything outlined till chapter 12. Then it's the tussle from getting there to the penultimate climax (because there will be action) and then to the end. No epilogue, because I'd be tempted to introduce the happily-ever-after troupe of mpreg…ergh.

Ah, it's very hard to keep a lid on this, especially if I haven't gotten to sledgehammer in specific key updates to you guys yet. So far everything is just wonderful and light in our protagonists' world. Heh. Enjoy!

* * *

_**Green and Gold**_

Chapter 7

* * *

Although Hari and his packmate knew the way to see the Acting Minister, they've indulgingly permitted the Assistant Secretary to take their lead. In the meantime, Sesshomaru had been keeping close attention of his change in scenery while selectively filtering in and out the enduring exchange between the two demonfolk and his escort. It seemed his current company was all in high favor with this Acting Minister. Two were kept as trusted counsels and this Sesshomaru's escort was paid high respects everywhere for his heavy involvement in their war. He hid a dark smirk.

Their authority and public regard were quite convenient to this Western demon lord, once he officially secured the three as his allies.

He could now mentally retrace their steps through the corridors of the large official building, from the moment the golden grilles of the lift opened to the level they've arrived. Wizarding Britain's council, as a whole, posed no threat to this Sesshomaru. Most of the hanyous envoys he'd the chance to scope out didn't have the proper build and attire to indicate seasoned battle experience. This era's yōkai depended entirely on their fancy wand waving, using it for the most mundane tasks to settling physical skirmishes. As far as he could tell, they have grown lazy and complacent. With a single swing of Bakusaiga or a flick of his wrist, before they could draw their wooden sticks—their only weaponry—and announce their attacks he would have the entire squadron decimated.

They outnumbered him, but he had the agility and range.

As long as he got to them before they could cast their yokai or spiritual magic, the advantage was his.

That glimmer of insight into their prowess was a small relief to this Sesshomaru. It hadn't been difficult to maintain an outwardly cool mien throughout their juncture, but anyone in his shoes would've been a trifle anxious having an unfamiliar culture and crowd suddenly foisted upon them.

The dog demon took in the openings in the walls which Hari's packmate had assured to him were windows enchanted by their Magical Maintenance Department to reflect whatever fit their fancy, and not the captured souls he'd assumed them to be. In the aftermath a Katie Bell thundered to be in the same post as her lord Hari, but she was so kind and gentle out of battle the Auror post didn't quite suit her. She was therefore transferred to Magical Maintenance, because of her aptitude in Transfiguration and slightly-above-average skill in Charms. As of now, under her influence, each window celebrated a different witch or wizard, each courageously squaring off against a masked Death Eater, before fading into a representation of them under a more peaceful, intimate setting.

Sesshomaru had noticed the lower the lift had taken them, the older the subjects of the animated windows were and the more miserable this Hari seemed but tried to hide, functioning on autopilot. Nearly three quarters of the way through the thick purple-carpeted hall, they walked straight down to the parlor and finally to a large set of shiny mahogany doors, with two plaques inscribed with this Kingsley Shacklebolt's name and his position. Just to the right of the doors sat a single desk overlaid with a short stack of parchments and on top of that a moulted flight feather whose tip was stained with drying ink. From the way the redheaded hanyou preened when they passed by it, it had to be his.

On both sides laid a single gold-plated frame, depicting one of a tall, well-built aristocrat with long, luxurious black curls and the other a brunette male with premature lines marred onto a world-weary face. The striking pairs of grey and hazel both hardened in the throes of battle and twinkled down playfully at them. It was here that Hari stared quietly, aimlessly up ahead, unbeknownst to his assembly save this Sesshomaru. Occasionally the female would send her pack alpha worried glances, but her attention would be dragged back by the redhead's dry prattling of their administrative affairs.

The daiyōkai's interest was roused. But before he could act on his desires, the foreign equivalent of Jaken stepped forward.

The doors swung open after a practiced rap against the wood, and they were funneled into a grand, circular chamber of the same golden crown moldings and dark pillars when a warm, low and syrupy brogue welcomed them to come in. In the center of the drawing room laid a claw-footed desk and behind that were unenchanted glass panels that gave a wide, unconcealed view of all the levels spiraling above and the flutter of officials traversing each floor. The only indications of sorcery within the confines of the room were affixed to the walls, an oil-painted portrait of a heavily-scarred male with a grey, grizzled mane sleeping and a painting of a beige and golden monstrosity of a private study.

To a common yōkai, as a whole, the interior opulence was suffocating. It was not as impressive as Sesshomaru had been expecting, compared to his Western kingdom and the expectations set from the sights his escort had shown him around.

The two hanyous immediately dropped into deep bows whereas Hari lowered his head as a nod of respect.

Behind the desk sat a dark-skinned, broad-shouldered male clad in embroidered purples and blues; his ear was pierced with a hoop earring, its metallic smell pungent and therefore made of authentic gold. His choice of jewelry was similar to the accessories the demon lord had noticed some of the more vain bandits or royalty adorned themselves to show off their status or station. Sesshomaru found his gaze drawn to the skullcap on top of his sleek, dark head. Several foreign dignitaries from the Eastern Lands and above wore something similar to the cap this Shacklebolt had, for religious purposes.

The controlled miasma that wound around him would fool anyone but this Sesshomaru into believing the Acting Minister to be a calm, gentile politician, but his commanding stature and the subtle scent of dried blood—soaked into the hanyou's very being—whispered of his fighter origins. To have this Hari's cooperation and respect, he had to be capable, for a hanyou alpha.

"Percy, you may take your leave," Shacklebolt commanded with a hard-pressed stare. He remained seated, his hands kept out of sight underneath the desk. His inauspicious behavior raised warning bells in Sesshomaru's head. As if realizing the brusqueness of his dismissal, the Acting Minister included the verbal balm: "Thank you for bringing them all the way here, Perce. You've been a big help."

A flash of hurt shone in the redhead's features, but he collected himself and nodded dispiritingly at being treated as nothing less than a footman. Trudging away, dismissing Hari's packmate's confused but sympathetic look, he excused himself and he shut the door behind them with a small click.

Almost immediately after his departure a wand carved out of black walnut was trained across the desk at the three. Colorful sparks were fizzling at the tip of the staff. In a deceptively calm voice, Shacklebolt demanded, "How do I know you're really who you are? Prove your identities."

To Sesshomaru's wonder, his chaperon treated it as if it were an everyday occurrence to have a trusted comrade aiming his weapon at him, obviously with ill will. Hari's reaction was especially telling of the lack of severity of their situation, so it was that which made the royal dog demon keep his cool.

Hari's packmate shuffled on her feet restlessly, burrowing deeper into this Hari's side as the green-eyed demon provided in a low tone, "Your alias was Royal_,_ from the _Potterwatch_ broadcasts."

The lines at the corners of those obsidian eyes stretched taut, eventually smoothing out as he took that as confirmation for their identities. The walnut wand was withdrawn back into his right sleeves. Sliding his chair back with a muffled scrap against the marbled floor, this Shacklebolt moved forward around the desk to welcome the pair back officially, shaking their hands and apologizing for the added vigilance. His gait and silent movement whispered that of a covert operative, an assassin by trade.

Shacklebolt's dark gaze lingered on the green-eyed lord, inspecting his physical welfare until his satisfaction, before he personally welcomed this Hari back from his duty.

A pair of molten gold gleamed, able to discern the minister's favoritism.

When Shacklebolt came before this Sesshomaru, he had paused for a moment, mindful of his rank but unsure of how to proceed for someone bestowed upon his predicament. Eventually the dark-skinned male compromised and decided upon a curt bow. His manner of address kept polite but not fawning, he announced, "It is an unfortunate that you were bought here under unforeseen circumstances, Lord Sesshomaru. Nevertheless, I make you welcome in our lands and my jurisdiction. Until the situation changes, we shall provide you sanctuary."

In other words, he was welcomed until he had been deemed a threat or liability to his subjects or wizarding Britain. Sesshomaru had little love for the social politics of his class. It had been far easier to roam his lands and cut down anyone who opposed him.

Yet it was commendable how deftly the diplomatic hand had been dealt to him, stirring memories of long ago. Since he had been a pup sitting in his father's lap, Sesshomaru had listened in to the flowery words prevalent among his father's Court, where underhanded verbal knives were launched and/or deflected vigorously much like that in the frontlines of a battlefield. After he ascended the throne, he had to sharpen his skills both physically _and_ mentally and constantly prove himself; lest he be usurped by the never-ending yōkai of voracious greed and ambitions, and stripped of his birthright to the Western Lands.

"Hermione has updated me of your standing. I trust Harry was of satisfactory company."

The minister was fishing for information. Maintaining a placid veneer, Sesshomaru returned a courteous tilting of the head. "This Hari has been a most gracious companion," he allowed.

Obsidian orbs blinked. With an ambiguous smile, the dark-skinned male gestured to the two armchairs across his desk as he made his way back around to retake his seat fashioned out of dark, carved wood. "Come, sit down. I know it's late. I'm afraid I was busy with my ministerial duties I wasn't able to prepare for your arrival. One of you will have to conjure a seat."

Hari's packmate sank into the plush purple seating without further prompting, settling down with a small relieved groan. That left the awkward situation where the two alpha daiyōkais remained upright over the remaining armchair. With a minute frown, Hari ventured, "If it's all the same to you, I prefer to stand. All the activity before has left me restless." He took a firm step back.

Sesshomaru peered at him, considering the flimsy ploy to make him take the seat while the green-eyed demon stood at attention. Concealing a small smirk at the spark of irritation in those forest green gems, he challenged, "This Sesshomaru too shall remain standing."

The female muttered something about posturing males under her breath and she transfigured the small table between the two seats into another armchair with a flick of her wand. With a small huff, she shared, "For when you two decide to regain your senses. Until then keep on being ridiculous."

The Acting Minister aimed a fond look in the pregnant witch's direction, used to her displays of insolence. "You've always been a wonderful counsel, Hermione. It's not required of you, considering your position, but I appreciate it nonetheless."

The female flushed at his compliment and scolding. Hugging her rounded stomach, she asked, "Have you found a good candidate to take your position, Kingsley?"

With a rueful smile, Shacklebolt shook his head. "With the exception of our Savior, the public is not too keen on having another Cornelius or Thicknesse take the reins as Minister." Both hanyou and inuyōkai turned to stare at Lord Hari.

"My answer still remains the same," Hari said placidly. "It's still a resounding no."

Shacklebolt shrugged helplessly. "I expected as much, with your odd aversion to fame and recent bout of wanderlust. It's not all your fault. With no one else favored in the public polls, my reputation would've been enough to appeal to the masses. You've made me the default nominee."

Hari merely smiled apologetically but said nothing else. So he'd merely declined the ruling position and wasn't disposed or out of contention because of his age or lineage. While a hanyou lord was indeed rare in Sesshomaru's time, it should be nigh impossible for a half-breed, royalty or not, to have ascended a ruling position when a pureblooded daiyōkai of this Hari's power was there as well. Sesshomaru studied the younger daiyōkai with a fascinated air.

Hari's packmate mumbled, "If he'd settle down like any normal wizard has by now, he wouldn't have to resort to a nomadic lifestyle."

"Hermione," Hari warned, clearly having gone over this subject with her many times. "Not here."

Her wide-set mouth twisted unhappily. Lifting her chin up, she persisted, "People have been talking. You have Ladies…and Lords throwing themselves at you, if not here then from several corners of the world. Yet you still haven't accepted anyone's hand. At this point the public doesn't know if something's wrong with you or if you've been having a secret tryst with someone inappropriate."

"As curious as the public is about Harry's bachelorhood, I think this isn't the appropriate topic to be discussing," Shacklebolt interrupted, looking rather embarrassed for continuing that vein of thought. The female, too, turned red. Rolling his shoulders, he leaned in and enquired, "Is it true you've contained the situation at the Japanese monument?"

Hari nodded stiffly, sharing a glance with his packmate. "Hermione's runes should hold until we figure out what to do with our guest. We're hoping it'll be a temporary stay and not a long one."

A dark brow lifted. "Indeed, that would be ideal. However, should I expect any…problems with our guest?" A trained eye took stock of this Sesshomaru, estimating his worth and abilities. Interest was paid especially on his fangs and claws and armor. Resting his chin on laced fingers, Shacklebolt testified, "This is just procedure, so I don't want you to think any less of me, but my priority is to consider the safety of our magical community. My gut is telling me you're a threat to my people."

"He is not a threat, Kingsley!" the female protested, shaking her head in dismay. Her ready defense of him had come as a pleasant shock to this Sesshomaru. "He's been quite a dream, considering his situation."

"Yes, his…situation." Obsidian eyes narrowed. "That is what concerns me. Not only are we dealing with a culture clash, what was once accepted in the past is no longer tolerable in the future. Lord Sesshomaru, you obviously are not of human origins. In our time, whatever creature heritage you have, some of our civilians will not be as accommodating as Harry and Hermione have been."

He purposefully lined his gaze at the three swords attached to the demon lord's hip. "Not to mention you're carrying weapons in plain sight."

Sesshomaru stiffened, dropping a hand mechanically on top of the three hilts as if to guard them from being confiscated from his possession. Sensing his distress, Hari leapt to his protection, "Minister, he knows we carry wands on us. Anyone in his shoes would feel more comfortable knowing they have something familiar to defend themselves should anyone launch an attack."

There was more being left unsaid but after a cautious consideration of Hari's counsel, Shacklebolt caved to his entreaty. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he repeated, "In Hermione's reports, she did not mention his creature status. I know it's rude to ask what you are, but the sooner I am in the know the easier it'll be for me to create a cover story to sell to the public."

Hari's packmate opened her mouth to spill the information her Acting Minister was requesting of them but her pack alpha's intense stare had her quiet down. "It's not important," she mumbled mulishly, her eyes downturned as if ashamed to meet her superior's disappointed gaze. It was interesting to note her loyalty was to her lord and not this Shacklebolt. She slouched in her seat. "We might have to bring Luna in the know since she's a known Magizoologist or maybe Bill for his curse-breaking skills, but it's only us who are aware."

"It's not because we can't trust you," Hari was quick to assure, "but it might be better to keep this information contained to as little people as possible. It's, after all, an identifying marker and we don't know if having more people cognizant of this would result in a temporal upset."

Shacklebolt heaved a sigh, resting his forehead on a palm. "Does your silence come at a price?"

Forest green gems stilled as realization flooded his expression. Hari stated firmly, "We will keep quiet about this so long as it is convenient. As of this moment, the secrecy is obligatory."

A pang of displeasure hammered in the demon lord's chest. His mouth thinned into a white line. So Hari's allegiance to this Sesshomaru was not as definite as he'd anticipated it to be. That was…unsettling.

"I approve of your plan to involve the youngest Lovegood and the eldest of the Weasley children," Shacklebolt slowly relented. It was odd how easily the hanyou deferred to this young lord, as if Shacklebolt was merely acting as if he held total command but it was Hari who operated the strings. "But to coin a Muggle saying, albeit changed, more heads think better than two or three. I want to bring the Department of Mysteries into this."

He held up a hand to stem their ensuing protests. "Hear me out before you shoot it down. The Unspeakables are trained in the intricacies of time magic, having originally manufactured the Time-Turners you, Hermione, should be well aware of."

He cast a disapproving glance at her direction, loitering on her stomach. "You are only one witch. There's only so much workload you can take before you snap. They are good at keeping confidentiality. If we place a similar Vow on the other research committees to assist you in your quest to send Lord Sesshomaru back to his time as soon as possible, we might be able to prevent the temporal upset you two have been maintaining will happen. Our concern should be getting him back before this gets leaked, and I guarantee you the longer he stays here the easier it'll be for the public to pick up any discrepancies in our story."

The yokai around Hari was a turbulent, simmering jumble of restlessness as he listened to his superior's rational. In a small part of his mind, Sesshomaru thought this Shacklebolt's explanation to be eloquent. There had to be a limit to how long their window of opportunity remained unhindered. The larger part of him was dissatisfied to be paraded around more strangers like an exotic pet. If his surmise was correct—no matter if there was another lord or royalty to be seen—only this Hari and this Sesshomaru were the only pureblooded daiyōkais in wizarding Britain. Everyone else was hanyou.

He thought back to the refutation Hari had provided earlier afternoon, when he'd commanded him to part with his knowledge of the yōkai tribes.

Looking at Hari's tensed visage, he pursed his lips as he considered how to provide a measure of consolation, as this wizard had done for this Sesshomaru many times before. It would be honorable to return his generosity, since Hari had initiated him into his pack for the time being. Shuttering his vision, Sesshomaru allowed his tightly-wound yokai to rise and gather around him without alerting the two hanyous. The feeling was like being suffused in a warm spring where ripples of water swum and lapped comfortingly against his skin. With the least amount he could muster up without giving anything away, he encouraged his yokai to delicately twine around Hari's aura.

Forest green eyes widened and snapped to this Sesshomaru. His gaze lingering at the contact point between his demonic energy and the Western Lord's, Hari gave him a long sidelong glance, as if to question his sudden boldness, to question why he would react this way when he had been so lenient and apathetic about Hari's treatment before. Sesshomaru cocked a brow at the silliness of his supposition. While not like the temporary protective claim Hari had placed on this Sesshomaru, the attempt to show his support had been made.

After a brief pause, without a word Hari shrugged and turned away, allowing the breach of privacy. As if keeping Sesshomaru's best interest in mind, he went to deter Shacklebolt with polite, pointed verbal jabs. His pure demonic energy settled and rubbed lazily against Sesshomaru's as a small gesture of thanks.

His magenta-striped eyelids lowered half-mast.

* * *

Born under one of the truly pureblood families labeled under the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been raised under different expectations from half-bloods and Muggle-borns. Before Dumbledore's rise in popularity, it was common for purebloods to snub their noses at the filthy blood for their ignorance and association to the Muggles who had lynched, burned, and driven the wizarding families into hiding long ago.

Unlike his pureblood brethren Kingsley had secretly shared his family's principles, when they were still alive. Having heard their ancestral stories of human trafficking in the country the Shacklebolt family had originated from, he became a staunch believer in equality and fairness for all wizards and Muggles and magical creatures. No one deserved to be treated less than what they deserve, no matter the misdeeds acted upon by their ancestors. He judged others by their individual actions and abilities.

But if there was one thing he hated more than bigoted prejudice, it was corruption.

He had been told time and time again he was an exceptionally skilled duelist and his defensive magic was extoled by his fellow Aurors. Kingsley is the one you want watching your back, they would all claim. And it was true. He enjoyed proving his competence and cunning. It was perhaps of this small vanity that made him like Hermione Granger, the highly-intelligent Muggle-born with an attitude to boot. He was surprised when she got together with Ron, having placed bids that she would've ended up with her other mate of much closer interests. Her mate Harry Potter reminded Kingsley of himself, with his quick ascension to his position and how he had taken to the post like a duck to water. The young Lord had more power in his little finger than most pureblood wizards alone.

Kingsley made it no secret that he respected the man. Not after having seen him accomplish what little wizards twice his age hadn't been able to pull off. But he was under no disillusion about the reality of their so-called Savior. Underneath his reputation and desirability, Harry was simply a very lucky boy with a penchant for adventure, with a strong magical core that remained untapped. What made him remarkable was his strength of character and adaptability to hostile situations despite any handicaps.

Childless and single, Kingsley took Harry under his wing after the Battle of Hogwarts. He couldn't put his finger on it but the wizard seemed to have changed. Sometimes when he looked across his desk, he would find himself startled to be reminded he was conversing with a lord three-times his junior. There was a maturity that hadn't been in the boy before.

Both Hermione and Harry had been instrumental in rooting out the corruption embedded deep in the Ministry, which shamed Kingsley somewhat to see how low their government had fallen. The colleagues he did not trust in the first place were demoted or slapped with an impending trial. The Malfoy Trials had been the biggest political headache of them all. Along with Percy, they aided Kingsley in reshuffling the ranks and introducing bills and treaties that improved human-creature relations and had gotten rid of the Dementors in Azkaban.

When he saw how disgruntled the prodigal wizard was kept in his cubicle and being pressured by their society to do something even greater, Kingsley offered to assign him the clean-up mission he personally would have taken himself if not for his loaded timetable. A team had been gathered—mostly comprised of members of Dumbledore's Army—and trained, and then were subsequently released into the world whenever rumors would pop up and the Unspeakables validated to the Acting Minister the location of the dark rituals.

The rare times he got to see Harry, back from his trips the wizard appeared to be more content than he was in wizarding Britain. That was where his suspicion formed about the young lord's wanderlust, and he found he could not blame the boy for desiring to be free of the societal pressures they placed on him since the day he was marked with the thunderbolt scar.

When Hermione's head had come screeching into his fireplace the night before about the stupidity of her best mate and the line of bad luck that always followed him, sirens were blaring in the Acting Minister's head. Worried about her pregnant state, he had to calm her down and tell her to explain from the beginning.

Slowly.

From Hermione's briefs, the time-traveler was made out to be an unlucky but powerful king uprooted from his kingdom by Harry's accidental magic. Before the press conference this evening, she'd warned him because of his looks and behavior she suspected him to be a feudal warlord from the Warring States period, an uncertain period she claimed to be of great social upheaval, political intrigue and constant militaristic conflicts in both the Japanese magical and Muggle worlds.

Kingsley saw what Hermione had meant the moment the royal magical creature appeared on his doorstep behind his three officials. He had to be honest to himself; he could see how one might appreciate the other's terrifying beauty, if their tastes ran a bit Oriental and primitive. The mood became precarious when the fae-like creature strode into his office. Easily towering over the witch herself, this Lord Sesshomaru's comportment and choice of attire lent a lethal, magnificent presence to him that screamed for people's deference and submission, despite appearing only a bit older than a recent Hogwarts graduate.

If the pureblood was gratified by his dueling abilities and cunning, his good judge of character was what he prided himself in. The controlled, dignified way Sesshomaru held himself whispered of the ability to be reasoned with and the way he moved was one of confidence. It was the latter, coupled with his royal clothing and indulgent acceptance, which was unsettling. Normally anyone in his situation would be a nervous or vengeful wreck. For one to hide his emotions so adeptly, he had to be very intelligent. It was the smart ones who often than not posed the biggest threats. Acting upon his instincts, he'd pressed the time traveling lord about his intentions, only for him to discover the foreign lord really wasn't much of a talker.

The entire time they had their exchange Kingsley noticed Sesshomaru was disturbingly spellbound by the wizard who had gotten him into the mess. It would have been cute had he not been aware that the deceptively young lord was five hundred or so years old. That slitted predatorial gaze would remain steadfast upon the side of Harry's face, as if it would give him the key to the secrets to the universe. It was akin to the starving stares a wild animal would toss a squirming rabbit in the dead of winter. Kingsley could feel himself clenching his fists, unsure if sheathing his wand had been a good idea.

If Sesshomaru turned out to be a liability, Kingsley would have to put an end to that. Harry Potter was the Ministry's best law enforcer, the public's Savior, and hopefully Kingsley's successor. He was the ideal public figure that made magical Britain the political powerhouse it was today. Were his image to be tainted by scandal…Kingsley realized were the time traveler to develop an interest in their Head Auror, it might be worse than having the magical creature permanently stuck in the future with no way to send him back.

Without more information, he was at a loss at what to do. While he believed it was not right to generalize someone by their species, there were stereotypes that held to the majority of creatures and beings. Vampires were thrill-seeking seducers. Goblins were highly intelligent, stingy hominids. Centaurs were territorial stargazers. Werewolves were aggressive to humans. Veelas were beautiful, moody harpies. And house-elves were immensely loyal and devoted to their masters. Looking at Sesshomaru's physical features, with the only recognizable attribute being his long pointed ears, the Acting Minister could only divine that he had to have branched from high elven lineage.

In the words of his dear, deceased Mad-Eye Moody, High Elves were snotty tree-huggers who considered everyone else beneath them. Kingsley stroked his knuckles thoughtfully, listening to Harry's petition to not bring in reinforcement. He could read beneath the ominous words that the wizard was telling him he didn't need the bodyguards or the spies to report back to their Minister, because he found it insulting little faith was placed in his abilities as the lord's minder. Sharp obsidian eyes trekked back to the fae-like lord, trying to read beyond his apathetic mask.

"Have you considered placing Glamours on him to alter his appearance?" he said finally, lifting his head up. He watched with an amused air as the wizard's tirade came to a spluttering halt upon his diversion. "Your plan to not change anything would've worked well had you introduced him as a Squib or _human_ foreign dignitary from another continent. Are you using his real name as well?"

_Avada Kedavra_ green lowered to the floor. Harry admitted, "It's a bit too late now. We know it's a big risk, but we're banking on nosy busybodies finding it impossible that we would be so foolish."

Kingsley blinked; then he found himself exclaiming incredulously, "You want them to overestimate your mental facilities?"

The wizard looked like he had socked him in the face. Before he could make a retort, Hermione championed, "Harry's a competent, highly-ranked and well-known Auror. He's _the Savior_. People think he's—Harry, don't get a swelled head—the second coming of Merlin. Would _you_ think he'd be so stupid to keep Sesshomaru's identity, if you were the snooping party?"

Kingsley smiled shakily. Of course he wouldn't.

"Furthermore we made sure to say Lord Sesshomaru's playing a character to escape detection, in case they find him in ancient scrolls or historic what-have-you. Of course people might find it suspicious that he stands out in the crowd, but the same argument can be applied to someone in his supposed situation." Her chin lifted as she looked up at Harry. "The Forbidden Forest didn't work out in the end, didn't it?"

The wizard's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed under the scrutiny of three powerful envoys. Licking his lower lip, Harry murmured hoarsely, "I'm going to hide him at Grimmauld tonight and see what he makes of Hogwarts at a later date. After that, I'm not sure. After the show we put on earlier today, word will spread."

Considering it was Harry Potter they were talking about, the man every witch or wizards discussed over their daily tea and biscuits, Kingsley didn't doubt by tomorrow morning the gossip gates would flood their small magical community with the arrival of their post.

His hat dipped down his forehead as he said slowly, "If we're talking about comfort and security, an Unplottable location would be best." Nodding at Sesshomaru, he vouched, "If you're what you say to be, although it's probably smaller than what you're used to, you might appreciate the decor. I've heard Harry's house elf restored it to its former glory."

At the reminder of Kreacher, the younger witch and wizard ducked their heads in embarrassment. Kingsley couldn't fault them for their reaction. In the Aftermath, concerning the Golden Trio the house-elf's personality did a complete one-eighty. If Lucius Malfoy's former house-elf worshipped Harry Potter, the Black's servant practically _venerated_ him as a god.

"This Hari has a retainer," an accented baritone interposed, bringing Kingsley out of his musings.

Staring into slitted pools of gold, which brought back unwelcome memories of Voldemort's pet, he felt a chill crawl down his spine. A wave of discontent coursed through him, for he had assumed the fae-like lord had kept up a polite illusion of interest when he was actually tuning them out. Going over mentally what he felt safe to divulge, he stated austerely, "House-elves have long since been servants of certain pureblood households. After the last Lord Black passed away, Kreacher had entered the service of the Potter line through a transfer of ownership."

The time-traveler made a "hn" sounding grunt of acknowledgement, and the pureblood felt his mouth pull into a little smirk. "Though I'm sure you're used to having your fair share of servants, if you were partial to our Forbidden Forest perhaps the Burrow might also be to your liking."

"No."

"Absolutely not!"

The two's heated cries were music to the pureblood's ears.

He allowed himself to bask in the lighthearted moment, but after taking a deep breath his expression sobered. "Living arrangements aside, it's nice and all that we have a short-term plan but how shall we proceed after that?" Clasping his calloused hands together, he murmured, "We can't put you on house arrest indefinitely. I've seen great men break from such a treatment." He gave a purposeful side-look to the only other wizard in the room.

A tic developed in Harry's jaw, but other than that the wizard made no attempt to correct him. Exhaling a whoosh of breath, which made the Potter Black Peverell lord's fringe fly from his eyes, the wizard shared, "We'll improvise. For now, we can do nothing but investigate and see if anybody had been in a similar predicament."

"You have yet to stipulate what exactly you are expecting from this Sesshomaru," their fair-headed time traveler supplied helpfully.

Obsidian orbs settled upon the humanoid. Considering their options, the Acting Minister posed cautiously, "If you all believe it to be in our best interests to keep his species a secret, at least answer me this: are you a full-blooded magical creature?"

Dark brows lifted into a silvery-white fringe. He sneered, "This Sesshomaru was born of two respectable clans."

"Any siblings? Cousins? Parents?" He paused, and with deliberate slowness, he tacked on, "Or a _mate_ we should be aware of?"

He didn't mean a "mate" as in a "friend." He meant it in a romantic, creature lingo. Clearly their guest understood it for what it was.

That polite, placid mask of his descended into something dark and brooding. Obviously Kingsley had touched upon a sore spot for the lord, whether be it the death of a close family member or a bastard's birth. He'd asked to cover all bases—there was a chance of exile or abdication—but he'd already did the guesswork that the father was out of the picture, for how else could Sesshomaru to have taken up the mantle as lord and ruler of his primordial realm?

Sensing his guest's reserve, he pounced, "I'm not prying for my own curiosity. Old Magic, when invoked, works in mysterious, wondrous ways. I'm asking you this question of sensitive nature because if a bond exists between you and one another, that person may be your tether back to your time. Platonic companions don't count." Tilting his head, he revealed, "Blood Magic in particular predates our word-based spellcasting and is one of our most powerful and unknown."

In spite of his admission, the five-hundred year old lord remained close-lipped.

Dark eyes narrowed, and the cunning he had been known for reared in the Minister's head. Sinking his chin on his hands, Kingsley purposefully dropped, "Your minder has first-hand experience with the intricacies of Blood Magic."

The Head Auror inhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the stillness like Gryffindor's Sword. His fingers dug into the wooden backrest of the closest armchair but other than that, he made no other indication to get him to stop.

Apologizing profusely to his colleague deep within his mind, Kingsley persevered, "When Lady Potter sacrificed her life to protect her infant son, the magical properties of the unintentional Blood Magic ritual protected him from his parents' murderer and rebounded the Killing Curse back to him, destroying the Dark Lord. After that Blood Wards were erected around Harry's sanctuary, maintained until he came of age by his familial connection to his surviving relatives.

"The Dark Lord was unable to touch him because of it. The only way he nullified the protection was by taking Harry's blood to resurrect himself. So, you see, there is power in the ties of family. If you do not have children or a blood relation alive, the closest to that would be a romantic partner, and then a friend…or a warrior loyal to you. If all else fails, a household servant or guard. I do not believe you to be socially inept. For someone in your position, it is almost an impossibility for a good ruler."

The challenge to the lord's pride had been cast, and for someone as political-savvy Sesshomaru, he had to have understood he was backed into a corner. The ex-Auror held his breath, well aware he was treading on thin ice. A challenge or besmirching of a royalty's blood and honor was on grounds of an execution or, in a lord's case, a duel.

With a penetrating glower, the long silvery locks tumbled over luxurious robes as Sesshomaru slanted his head and looked down at the Acting Minister with narrowed eyes. The tense moment lasted but for one heart-pounding minute. "This Sesshomaru," said the lord stiffly, "has a mother."

"Wonderful!" he beamed, smiling encouragingly. "Who else?"

Through gritted teeth, Sesshomaru added resentfully, "And a half-brother."

"O-oh. Er, that might…somewhat…complicate matters." Hesitating, he required gingerly, "There is no Lady or children? Not even an Intended?"

What he had presumed to be inked curves on the lord's face unexpectedly shook, expanding and becoming slowly serrated against the paleness of his cheeks. Oriental fae magic? Kingsley caught sight from the corner of his vision his two officials bracing themselves, as if preparing for an assault on their Acting Minister.

They were his signals that he had finally crossed the lord's patience.

To prevent unnecessary violence, making himself seem nonthreatening as he could Kingsley forced himself to bow his head in supplication. In his most reassuring voice possible, he said, "I apologize. I was too forward. I was worried your relationship to your parent or brother wouldn't be enough to provide us a chance."

When nothing happened, his black gaze flickered up vigilantly. His instincts warred against his logical mind. The latter eventually won out. "For now we'll proceed with the assumption either one will be enough."

For an instant it looked like they would need to stun the magical creature anyway, for his words surprisingly seemed to have no effect calming him down. Abruptly the creature jerked and became as rigid as a board, as if someone invisible had slapped him or did something equally daring.

The growl that had rattled in the feral creature's chest lessened in volume and the male closed his eyes as if to rein himself back from the actions he was about to took. The three contemporary magic users watched in captivation as the stripes waned, like the fluctuations in water, before they receded back lethargically to the strange magenta arches they once had been before.

All three magic casters felt an immense breadth of relief. Hermione submerged back down into the plush seating, having been in a half-crouched half-standing position. She was scouring her face with her hands. Lord Potter Black Peverell discreetly tucked his Holly wand back up his arm holster.

The adrenaline that had been pulsing through the Acting Minister made him both fatigued and hyper-aware of their conditions. His present company looked like they were ready to drop dead on their feet. He peered behind him through the large paneled windows, startled when he saw his Ministry officials starting to leave for their homes. That must mean the reporters had left.

It was late. They were all tired and stressed and high-strung and in great need of recuperation.

With a despairing sigh, he scooted his chair back and stood up to declare, "I have taken up a lot of your time. Thank you for putting up with my enquiries. As of now, I have no more questions for you."

He bade them to think about what he'd said about involving other parties. After the pregnant witch struggled to her feet after some assistance from Harry, the two sold him a brisk goodbye. When they turned, the Acting Minister spotted as they padded across the marble the wizard slowed down right when he reached shoulder-to-shoulder with Sesshomaru.

Magenta-inked eyelids snapped open and the time-traveler, whom Kingsley now noticed soared a little less than a foot taller than the Head Auror, fixated Harry with a look of a little disgruntlement and…a little worry? Before Kingsley could make heads and tails of it, the stoic veneer Sesshomaru had on earlier replaced the lord's brief look of weakness. The sudden shift in confidence had so been quick that had he blinked, he never would've caught sight of it.

Just as the three were about to pass the office threshold, a thought occurred to Shacklebolt so he asked, "Before I forget...Harry, have you abandoned your personal research? What happened to your progress on how to summon a giant _Patronus_ like Andros the Invincible?"

Had he been paying attention, he would've perceived the demon lord snapping to attention, like a bolt of lightning struck him where he stood. Shacklebolt, who spent years of training reading criminals and devoting his attention solely on a target at a time, could only see the twinge of frustration buried in the spot between Harry's shoulder blades.

Without turning around, the Head Auror said lowly, "It's on my list of things to do. C'mon Lord Sesshomaru, Hermione. Good night, Minister."

Before Kingsley could demand him to stick around, the door shut behind them with a quiet click. Tired and haggard, he collapsed back into his seat, covering his hot forehead with his palm.

"I thought they'd never leave," a Scottish-laden growl suddenly erupted to his right.

Without opening his eyes, the Acting Minister mumbled to the mounted portrait, "Were you spying this whole time, Alastor?"

The electric blue magical eye rotated wildly in the multilated, gnarled face. Moody stepped closer until his mouth seemed to obtrude from the canvas as he asserted shamelessly, "Constant vigilance, Kingsley! Point is you've let your affection for Potter cloud your judgment!"

"What makes you say that?"

"Aye, I reckon that's why you couldn't see the broil of Dark Magic coming from that magical beast."

"O-oh. That's why I'd been feeling quite uneasy." The short silence ensuing made Kingsley look up. The scarred mess of a face was deep in thought. He sat up. "What?"

"…Do you want me to fetch Dumbledore?"

"And now you're going overboard."

"Again, your observation is compromised!" the sentient painting swiftly rebutted.

Kingsley felt an incoming headache. For the imitation of his dear friend, who had been enchanted to mimic key phrases and characteristics of the subject, to rebuke him was, quite frankly, irritating. "I can tell he's bad news, yes, but it wouldn't be fair to judge until proper research is conducted."

"Proper research?" the portrait mocked. "Maybe when Potter ends up dead and half-eaten by the Dark Creature, you'll consider it proper research."

"I will not condemn an innocent man until I have proof," Kingsley avowed, standing up.

"Then what are you going to do? Wait until the killings begin?" The mismatched eyes stilled. "You reckon you'll be another Crouch Sr? Is this what it's about?"

Shrugging on his coat, Kingsley gathered all the paperwork and some of the more important knickknacks he'd disillusioned before his company walked in. "You don't have to hide your concern for Harry," he stated calmly, charming them small and stashing them into his pockets. He could hear the following splutter and denials bubbling from the portrait. Ignoring the loud remonstrations, he stood before the painting, with his hands clasped behind his back. He could not take in more conspiracies, not when his mind was still too full of the encounter with Sesshomaru.

"If the next words out of your mouth, dear friend, is about considering the greater good, I'm afraid I'll have to move you to Percy's office. And I know how much you dislike that boy."

Easily diverted, Moody launched into a well-practiced diatribe about how wet-behind-the-ears the Weasley was and how even though he'd finally seen the light and listened to Moody's sage advice about looking tough, the horned attachments to his spectacles made him look sillier and wide-eyed than ever. Rolling his eyes, Kingsley moved sluggishly to the double doors, thinking about the errands he would have to make his newly-installed Assistant Secretary carry out.

That night, he tossed and turned in his sleep, dreaming about the forebodings that would plague him for the next few months.

* * *

"This Shacklebolt had mentioned a Squib."

Green-eyes tensed from the baritone that piped up after having witnessed the house shove its neighboring houses, number eleven and number thirteen, out of its way to make space in between. Having wished Hermione goodbye and a careful leave, he had _Apparated_ his burden to the steps leading up to number twelve, Grimmauld Place after much cajoling that the trip would be well worth it for their rest.

Placing his hand over silver knocker in the twisted shape of a serpent, he waited for the battered door to recognize the ring under his gloves. After the flare of heat, the front door swing open to a long hallway, lit with a line of clean gas lamps and with the glossy chandelier dangling overhead.

Curious golden eyes studied their interior as Harry said tiredly, "Squibs are children born between two magical parents but have no magic themselves. Most families are ashamed of them. But like some Muggles, their lineage will undoubtedly sprout a Magic-born."

"Master is back!" a familiar bullfrog-deep croak called out giddily, overjoyed to serve his Lord Black after so long. Dressed in a sorry cassock with large colored patches bearing all three lordships Harry had inherited sewn into the greying coarse fabric, Kreacher had cleaned up as nicely as he could to represent his Master's high station.

From the distance, the Black's motto, _Toujours Pur_—that crest took up the majority of his attire—swum in the wizard's bleary vision.

The mad dash the house-elf made to greet Harry terminated when he caught sight of the royal dog demon standing behind him. The same heavy-bottomed frying pan used to beat up Mundungus Fletcher popped into existence in the house-elf's hands.

"Kreacher," Harry said tightly before the house-elf descended into his former name-calling habits and got it into his head to protect his wizard, "enough of that. Put that away. Your master is in no danger, alright? Lord Sesshomaru is to be treated as an honored guest as long as he stays here. He is not to be trifled with. Do you understand me?"

Rubbing his temples, he murmured, "I don't want to lose a valued household member should you accidentally antagonize him."

The pair of weak bloodshot eyes moistened, making them look more bulbous than before. Underneath the loose folded skin, an alarming shade of red rose to stain his whitish features. Vanishing the pan that had been larger than his head, the elf wailed, "Master is good Master. Master is kind to Kreacher and Mudbloo—_Muggleborns_ and blood traitors and filthy beasts. Kreacher is proud to fought for Master in war!"

The Head Auror felt too embarrassed to turn around and see their guest's expression. Had he done so, he would've heard the daiyōkai mumble how also the house-elf who served under Harry was rather like his own kappa retainer. There was a perturbed whisper of how Jakens were everywhere. Slanted eyes shifted to the row of grisly shrunken heads mounted to the wall on plaques.

Licking his lower lip, Harry declined Kreacher's teary entreaty to bring him and his guest dinner. Before the elf begun fussing over his health, Harry was quick to say, "Actually I'll have a treacle tart before I turn in for bed." After a pause, he amended, "After I fetch our guest his _food_. You eat raw meat, right?"

"This Sesshomaru does not need to eat," the demon lord rejected mechanically.

Harry's slow-churning mind couldn't process that. He finally looked back, peering over his shoulder. "You're not hungry. At all."

He realized belatedly that had been the wrong thing to say, when those wide golden pools suddenly narrowed. Feeling unease crawl into his gut, he directed, "Kreacher, you're allowed to go. Take a rest."

The house-elf bowed lowly to the wizard, bent over until the tip of his snout-like nose touched the floor. With some hesitance, he did the same for Sesshomaru, albeit jerkily. He popped away into the kitchens.

"Daiyōkais require little nourishment," Sesshomaru said gravely. The translation spell was wearing off, for the traditional Japanese crept into the dog demon's accented English. To Harry's dismay, his low voice now carried what sounded like an undercurrent of suspicion. "Our appetites are not like hanyous' or humans.' This Hari is not the same?"

"That's great," Harry replied bleakly, his thoughts a jumble of confusion. "All the more power to you. I gave up eating your type of meat after I got bloody nightmares."

The suspicion melted into twin pools of perplexity. After a prolonged silence, the demon lord asked him for a full explanation of the wizard's actual status. The head of three noble magic lineages stared at him blankly, asking for clarification.

Annoyed by his host's slowness, Sesshomaru explained himself slowly: "This Hari is a lord revered by his people. You have gotten rid of another lord threatening your lands, yet you operate under a hanyou ruler. Your sorcery stems from a different magic than your subjects."

"I-the Minister's a pureblood, unlike me. My dad's a pureblood but my mum's a Muggle-born witch." His brows knitted together. The unsteady feeling returned tenfold, for the demon lord had discerned the change in his core when no one else did. Desperate to steer him in another direction, he offered, "Different as you think I am, I believe I would fit the 'hanyou' bill more so than the rest, if I reckon our definitions are the same. In my society, I am called a half-blood."

The new look he got from the dog demon made him feel like utter shite. Feeling his blood boil in his veins, he said heatedly, "Merlin, are you purebloods all this pig-headed? It does not matter, in the end, what your blood amounts to. Does blood provide food on your table? Does your lineage guarantee the strength of your core? I've seen you purebloods sprout drivel about your so-called superiority since I entered this world. You know what I reckon? It's a crock load of bull."

Taking a deep breath, he slumped against the wall, massaging his throbbing forehead. He'd had this thought ruminating in his mind for quite some time, but he never thought to express them aloud. At least, not yet. "New blood needs to be introduced to the genetic group. Cloistering it within a small community or inbreeding produces generations of Squibs or magic-borns with diluted magic. Voldemort was a half-blood and he was the most powerful Dark Lord said to have existed. Snape was a half-blood and he was a great Potions Master and a master of Mind Arts. Hermione's a Muggle-born and she's the most talented, smartest witch of our generation. My mum's magic was also superior to most of her pureblood peers. The half-brother you mentioned…I wager he was hell to deal with."

"Blood purity does not matter," he concluded in the end, his waning temper making him feel like he wanted to crawl under his sheets and never come back out. He met Sesshomaru's gaze squarely. "If my dad married my mum and didn't regret it to his last dying breath, I am proud of what I am. Nothing you say or believe will change that."

* * *

Left to his own devices by a very irate wizard, Sesshomaru found refuge in a cozy bedroom decorated in the lord's family colors: green and black. To his amusement, very much similar to the crescent moons that decorated his home in the sky as symbols of his family's status and prestige, serpentine shapes of wrought iron or delicate woodwork boasted of the House of Black's allegiance to the Slytherin clan in spite of what their family crest depicted.

While not as large as his private chambers, he could only assume it was not the lord's due to its meager size and lack of personal artifacts. It was also the only living arrangement that did not have foreign ornaments or décor which housed small, snarling creatures he had to put down. The lingering scent of an unknown creature teased his senses.

Velvet curtains shrouded the room in a darkness most humans would not be able to see in. Scrutinizing the elaborate carpet underneath his boots, he found himself drawn to the exotically-designed futon. Its wooden headboard was delicately carved, its mattress raised on top of a low platform. Smoothing a hand over the goose-feather futon, he watched disbelievingly as his claws sunk into the fabric. It was like touching a soft cloud. Fine wall hangings and ornate furniture completed the rich interior. For the lord's townhouse, this Hari had not kept a lot of servants.

Speaking of the lord, Sesshomaru toed off his boots and placed them at the foot of the bed. Also placing his three fangs in a secure spot, after a long considering look he fell down against the springy futon, his hair pooling around him like a liquid halo. When the world stopped spinning, his eyes lifted to the high vaulted ceiling overhead as he reviewed the younger lord's impassioned speech.

It had rattled Sesshomaru of the similarities between them, of Hari's father and the Inu no Taishō. The green-eyed male had not indicated he had been lying when he declared himself a half-breed. In the privacy of his room, the daiyōkai scrunched his face in thought. Whenever the young lord lied, his biggest tell would be that poker face Sesshomaru could see worked on many individuals but to him had seemed unpolished. Given a few years to perfect it and his tact, Hari would be a game changer in the political scene, this he had no doubt. His undeniably high daiyōkai level of pure demonic energy begged him to ask how it was possible.

He frowned. There was only one explanation. The green-eyed lord was not what he believed himself to be.

He rolled onto his back. Plucking the silver badge from his collar, Sesshomaru held up the bauble against the diminished light. When Hari overlaid his scent over Sesshomaru's through his continued contact, innocent touches and sorcery, Sesshomaru was nearly overwhelmed time and time again by the escaping threads of the lord's constrained miasma.

Turning the badge over, he studied the needle inserted into the back. It was quite possible Hari had been adopted or fostered or had something done to him to make him as strong as Sesshomaru could detect underneath the young lord's deceptively harmless-looking veneer. For him to have been kept in the dark about his heritage, another realm of possibility was that over time demons and hanyous had forgotten their demonic and spiritual origins, instead believing themselves to be a wholly unique race.

A small part of him was unsettled by the ignorance that was prevalent in wizarding Britain, overriding the rational part of his brain that wanted him to remain apathetic to their obliviousness. Their ignorance had served them well in the past. Surely nothing untoward would happen were they to continue remaining in the dark?

Somehow that didn't settle with the inuyōkai. Unlocking his claws, the badge dropped onto his chest with a soft plop.

For the feared eldest son and lord of the Western Lands, it would be shameful for him to be under the protection of a hanyou lord. After the future lord had done for him and whatever else he will do, Sesshomaru was practically obligated to teach this Hari of the ways of a true demon lord who was not afraid to show off his power and status and to seize control of the unclaimed opportunities that presented themselves in his wake.

It would be his silent gift to this green-eyed daiyōkai.

Molten eyes narrowed. For now, he'll indulge this Hari's mistaken need to maintain his thrice-daily human eating ritual, eventually to be weaning him of that appalling weakness. Drawing his demonic energy around him once more, he closed his eyes and felt for that twinge of magic he'd familiarized himself with over the past two days. Deep within his mindscape, he journeyed down the stairs and corridor and out to the front steps, feeling himself float to where this lost alpha sat staring into the moonless night up ahead. With an impenetrable smile, he settled down besides the young lord, pleased to simply bask in the alpha's demonic energy.

Unbeknownst to him a rumbling purr had seeped from his unconscious throat. The beast that was in him, for once, felt in peace.

* * *

(A/N)- Recently I've come across the reminder that by the end of the series Harry had grown as tall as James Potter (~6 ft), who had been described as tall even by Voldemort. However the actor who plays our boy wizard is 5'6". Ginny who had been described as short in the book is played by an actress who was 5'6" at the time. Considering the harsh living conditions and diet and the Japanese heritage it…sorta…kinda makes sense that Sesshomaru is…5'10"….

Ahaha, bleep it. I'm sticking by my previous chapters.

...On another note, I feel like a mole amongst all the scheming going on. So next chapter will have another clue as to Harry's Animagus form. And it's one of the foreshadowing/plot-heavy updates I'm most excited to bring to the table because of…well, I'm going to stop teasing you guys here! You'll see what I mean. Just hang tight and cross your fingers!


	8. Chapter 8

(A/N)- We've passed the 100-review mark! All together now, HUZZAH!

To celebrate the milestone my dear readers—especially you _**mabidiso, lurking247, twilightserius, charm13insomnia, Kai19, Yizuki, ******__Anyell. Dya_, Silvermane1, mer, Vom, Io's Torment, mochilera, DarkenedRose24, DiavolSange, aliengirlguy, Angelwarrior1, Elfin69, _**jgood27, Avarianna,**_ **_dontblink, _**and _**Monki-Neko**_!—I present to you, a very long chapter 8. If you thought the previous update was intense, you haven't seen the worst yet. Some reviewers posted concerns I felt were acceptable to answer publically upon this point:

**_Anyell. Dya_**: Who would be the dominant one in the relationship? _Eh, the dominating alpha instincts are inherent in Sesshomaru's creature nature but by popular request Harry's not going to be a doormat. So, um, I stand by what Kingsley said prior chapter._

_**Kai19**_: Will Harry's childhood be revealed to Sesshomaru? _Those on Sesshomaru's Shit List and Death List are going to be accumulating. At different intervals. The angst is obligatory, enough for character development but hopefully not too overbearingly melodramatic._

_**mer**_: Is the Forest of Death going to come into play? _I only know of the Forbidden Forest and the Forest of Dean, and both are going to be central to the major conflict(s). You'll see soon!_

_**dontblink**_: Will we see any POV from Jaken or Rin? _Oh yeah. They're coming. I've already outlined it out, hehe. As for the rest, you'll just have to wait and see where I'm taking Green and Gold unfortunately! :) But as a hint I've finally found an acceptable Inuyasha-equivalent of what Harry would be classified as after being unofficially deemed a true MoD. Huehuehue._

That being said, I'm constantly humbled by your encouragements and by your analytical inferences from each update. You guys should seriously glance through the reviews and the contents. You've all made me proud to be a part of the fandoms. Honestly I never would've thought I could sustain the plotbunny thus far. And I'm happy to contemplate any of your requests as long as I consider it consistent with what I'm going for. So without further ado, inspired by all your feedback, our newest installment! Ay, my brain has melted.

* * *

_**Green and Gold**_

Chapter 8

* * *

With the sun just rising in the horizon, being the only one awake the lord of three wizarding houses was clenching Sirius' immaculate bathroom vanity so hard his knuckles were white from the pressure. The encompassing self-hatred and guilt that plagued him since Voldemort's murder surged to the surface once more, and he bowed his head to avoid looking at his distorted features in the mirror fogged up from the steam of his hot shower. Water beads dripped down his forehead and dropped down from his wet hair into the sink as he stared absently at the tiny, silver stopper below.

Yesterday Harry had been beside himself. For some reason he could not stomach the demon lord intruding into his private affairs; and that surge of territorial bitterness had disconcerted him. For that reason sleep would not come. To work off the burgeoning temper, he'd Apparated from the steps outside to Gloucestershire, to the Forest of Dean where rumors of an infestation of Acromantula and other Dark Creatures threatened to oust their magical community to the Muggles who came for hikes or camping. That task had been written into his timetable of things to do, but now he had felt like undertaking the mind-numbing investigation to cool his head. He had followed the trail of magic and violent drag marks to several different locations deep into the woods, only to discover a trace of sticky webbing or animal carcasses decomposing behind each different site. With each new path he took, the subsequent stroll down memory lane had made his frustration skyrocket to dangerous heights until his nose had picked up on a putrid, stomach-turning stench of decay and rot.

It was at the eerily familiar, trash-littered viaduct that he stumbled across a small army of Inferi and with reintroduced fury he'd hunted down every last visible animated carrion until he could feel magic exhaustion setting in that he called it quits. He'd sat down on a rotting log to catch his breath in the middle of the burning, abandoned Snatcher Camp, glaring down at the writhing Inferius pinned to the ground trying to unlodge the stone slab from its sternum.

Shredded remains of a dark red fabric, closely resembling an armband, were gripped tightly in the wizard's gloved hands.

With the area unobstructed, it was clear to see the abandoned campsite showed evidence of human occupation, from the dirty, upturned pots and pans to the crude, simple lean-tos assembled out of stripped branches and strung up tarp. Magic saturated the air, but he couldn't place the source. Common sense indicated the magical creatures were behind it. His gut, though, said otherwise. He didn't have any proof that wizards had been behind the occupation—and maybe it really was his paranoia speaking—but something didn't sit right with Harry.

This campsite was far too untidy, too chaotic for Muggles to have been the culprits behind the mess, yet it was too clean, too orderly to suggest the aftershock of an Inferi attack. Unable to control their strength, the Inferi ripped their victims apart. They used their teeth to tear into flesh. They were ordered to attack or defend on a wizard's or witch's orders. The lack of reamed limbs and blood around the campsite was suspicious. There was a niggling sense of recognition at the back of his mind the longer he stared at the scrap of fabric, but the theory was so incredible he couldn't put much credibility behind it. At least, not yet. He'd rather not stir up bad memories and public hysteria without solid confirmation first.

He'd left behind the blackened grounds smelling of smoke and ashes and charred flesh after putting the Dark Creature out of its misery with a well-placed _Incendio_. Back at Grimmauld, in the drawing room he'd sent Sirius' black owl off with the armband and an official note instructing a team of Aurors to be dispatched first thing in the morning to finish his clean-up mission at the Forest of Dean and to record any suspicious magic. Maybe they'd come to the same conclusions as he did. Maybe not.

At this point, it was out of his hands.

Too exhausted to go up the stairs the wizard had dragged his feet to where he and Ron had once slept near Hermione to hide from the Death Eater-controlled Ministry. With large windows overlooking the street and quick access to the fireplace, the drawing room had been the next ideal space for surveillance.

Being as late as it was and the exhausted state—mentally and physically and magically—he was in, he really could not string together a coherent thought. So in the remaining hours to himself he'd attempted to meditate.

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa cushions, after he reached the state that felt similar to the cold emptiness he sometimes envisioned to be an extension of the Occlumency he'd successfully performed once, with his eyes closed he'd felt like mentally flailing in the darkness, unsure of what he should've felt or what he should've seen. His Holly wand gripped in his sweaty palms, he had tried desperately to think about anything under the sky, hoping one of them would trigger the discovery of his Animagus form.

He'd thought back to the Inferi army at the campsite, recalling his ruthlessness and single-minded, almost feral focus on the hunt.

He thought back to the daiyōkai sleeping in his comfortable bed; about his friends; about his colleagues; about the British magical community in general.

He'd thought about his life, his childhood, and his responsibilities.

He'd thought about how a single wizard like him would have no decent dating prospects aside from his third cousin and the witches who wanted him as nothing more than their prestigious sperm donor.

His mind, then, had refused to deviate from that particular train of thought. The wizards that went after him for courtship, however, had come as a surprise to the Head Auror. As a wizard who had been automatically attracted to the fairer sex and had little relationship experience, he felt quite perplexed and troubled—and somewhat flattered, if he was honest to himself—by his male suitors. It wasn't until he shadowed one of them for a day—somehow he doubted this was what Hermione meant when she said to think about broadening his horizons—that he realized they wanted him for the same underlying reason why _Witch Weekly_ considered him one of the wizarding community's most desirable celebrity bachelors. It was a depressing thought.

_Avada Kedavra_ green had shot wide open and his whole body had stilled. In that instant, perhaps, he'd imagined his senses sharpening; he'd convinced himself the splotches of color and murky, dusty scent in the drawing room were dizzyingly enriched. The moment shattered when he smelled himself and he realized, with much disgust, he needed to bathe. Thoroughly.

That sequence of events lead him now to where he was now. With a deep inhale of the balmy vapor in the air, Harry slowly lifted his head. Not an uncommon occurrence these days, he tried to see in the mirror what it was about him that could be so repellent that his only prospective suitors were the people who couldn't see past his lightning bolt scar. Sweat plastered his perpetually messy hair to his face which was thin and haggard from days without of sleep. His signature almond-eyes he got from his mum—his only attractive physical feature as far as he could tell, based on people's comments—without the Glamours, were weighted down by the dark bags underneath his eyes. He looked down his body, sliding a calloused hand across the raised edges of his battle scars and childhood nightmares until he stopped at the scarlet oval over his heart.

His lips thinned. Voldemort's Horcruxes have left their mark in his life in ways the Head Auror had not anticipated, branding him with their own individual curse. Yesterday's encounter with Ginevra had cemented his resolve to treat her as a valued family member and not a romantic partner.

Harry snickered bitterly, pressing his heated forehead to the glass. If he weren't so confident that the witch wouldn't have sunken so low, he would've thought she fed him an Amortentia Potion or a weaker love potion. His time with her as her boyfriend had truly been magical. For once, he'd thought she'd been unlike the giggling witches who projected him as the hero or knight of their fantastical imaginations. But time away from her and the rare, stilted messages he'd gotten from her broke the illusion he had and proved to him that they had gotten way over their heads.

"Who would want a false marriage based on fairytales and illusions?" he susurrated to himself, recalling poor, besotted Merope Gaunt and her obsession with Tom Riddle Sr. His nails dug into the porcelain. He did not want a loveless union. He did not want any child of his to end up like Voldemort had, like Harry had.

His jaw tensed. Voldemort…Tom Riddle Jr…Harry's distant cousin. Dead. As far as he knew, Voldemort didn't have an Animagus form. For Harry Potter, he didn't really care if his animal form ended up being impractical in battle or espionage. If he was able to master the transformation, it made him one step further from the man who killed his parents, from the man whose childhood and specific traits had startling parallels to his own.

His hands clenched into fists. It was a fear Harry had not expressed to anyone. He'd seen how easily it'd been for the magical community to jump to conclusions. For them to catch wind of this, he'd be asking to be branded the next Dark Lord and thrown into Azkaban. He'd tried telling Hermione, but she'd dismissed his concerns so swiftly he gained no closure from her refutation.

Sopping up the last moisture from his matted hair with the Black-crested towel, he slapped his cheeks to rid himself of his dark mood. "It's no time to think about this, Harry," he told his blurred reflection. The gears in his head clanged in a new direction.

A purpose and routine must be set for the demon lord, to make the transition into the future easier on him. Like the Minister had said, the wizard had had first-hand experience being sheltered, under the guise of protection when in actuality it was to keep an eye on him. If he went out now under this gloomy mindset, the five-hundred year old demon lord would think his minder to be barking mad.

That shift in opinion would be problematic. Having seen a little of what the daiyōkai was capable of, Harry didn't want to be the poor bloke assigned to detain him in a heavily-guarded cell or put him in a magically-induced stasis should Sesshomaru feel alone and backed into a corner.

Shimmying into clean pants and charcoal trousers which had magically appeared on the countertop when he had taken his shower, Harry reflected on how by some miracle or grace, a flimsy trust was established between them, knocked down only slightly by last night's outburst. His lips twisted.

Harry wasn't sure how to feel about babysitting someone who he felt on an instinctual level an independent, nomadic kinship with. Were he or Hermione be unable to make a breakthrough in the next few weeks, it wasn't difficult to foresee the Minister demanding him to take Sesshomaru on several of his longer operations to keep an eye on him. Being single and alone with time on his hands, he could see how he would be Sesshomaru's default sitter. If Harry had to put up with someone for extended periods of time, he'd rather be in the company of someone he tolerated, lack of personality notwithstanding. Their brief tenure could be a mutually-beneficial partnership, with both parties learning from the other.

He'd have to test Sesshomaru's abilities sometime, to gauge how much of a threat or asset he'd be in battle situations if it ever came to that. His skin crawled with anticipation.

Fully clothed, he turned the iron door handle and groggily lumbered out. The steam that had been in the bathroom whooshed out into the cold main corridor, and he shivered from the iciness permeating from the polished floorboards beneath his bare feet. In an upright position, sliding on his socks, he almost toppled over when Kreacher appeared with a pop.

"Master!" Kreacher greeted, "Mr Kingsley's told Kreacher to give Master Harry a fire message after Master was drawing his bath. He says 'thank you for the heads-up' and he's gotten you's a 'few leaves of absence. To make progress.' But Master must go back to his real job soon with or without the foul beast if Master wants his pension."

The house-elf looked so ridiculously happy to have relayed the Minister's missive Harry couldn't find it within himself to rebuke him for insulting their guest. "Thank you, Kreacher," he said finally. "I'll have to talk to him and Hermione later. Are there any more messages or post that arrived?"

"Kreacher burned the nasty mail," Kreacher answered dutifully with a wicked grin. "Master Harry did not see them. The good ones are left on the kitchens. If Master and guest wants a light breakfast."

Harry's lips trudged up into a smirk. Earlier into his lordship, he'd convinced Kreacher to burn all the marriage contracts and proposals and salacious posts before it got to him. It had allowed Lord Potter Black Peverell to maintain a threshold of innocence were the more respectable families behind some of the posts insistent to know why he hadn't responded. "Depends. What is our guest's status?"

Those great bulbous orbs blinked. "Awake. Like Master Harry was the whole night."

He winced. "That I was, Kreacher. I must look frightful, if you could tell. Do we have any phials of Invigoration Draught in the pantry? If not, a Vitamix Potion or Girding Potion could still do the trick. I don't want to fetch Lord Sesshomaru looking like this."

Kreacher bobbed his head eagerly, his large ear flaps smacking into his face. "Kreacher shall bring Master his potion to the dining table." Bowing lowly, he made to disappear when a thought occurred to him. With slight hesitance, he posed, "Shall Master's guest eat his breakfast rare?"

"That'd be nice," Harry confirmed, his brows furrowing. Seeing Kreacher wring his cassock in frustration, he realized that was not the house-elf had been asking. His eyes softened. "Oh! You mean…Kreacher, I'll be alright. Lord Sesshomaru said a demon's appetite is not like ours, but I'd seen him eat so I guess we could provide a little of everything for him, just in case. Bring fruit too after you set the table. I have a theory I want to test out."

"…Shall Kreacher bring Master's guest to him?"

The house-elf looked like he'd rather be handed clothes than ordered to fetch the magical creature, but he had offered out of duty. With a wry smile, Harry directed, "I appreciate your concern, Kreacher, but no thanks. I worry he's going to think you as a chew toy or as his sword practice. After you've done a good job restoring Grimmauld, I don't think the Noble House of Black can afford losing its most dedicated servant. Everything looks new and spotless every time I return." It made it easier to pretend it was an estate he'd earned from his own right and not inherited from his godfather's will. He looked closely at Kreacher's face. "Is there something else you wanted to tell me?"

Fat drops of tears were held captive at the corners of Kreacher's wide, shining eyes as he seemed to physically swell from the compliments paid, yet doubt and insecurity warred on the old house-elf's face. Picking at the frayed hem of his cassock, he opined, "Master has been most kind to everyone. But Master forgets Master's guest is a foul beast. Master needs to be forceful."

When Harry's mouth twisted down from what the house-elf thought to be for his inexcusable suggestion, Kreacher cried, "Forgive Kreacher! Kreacher forgets his place!" Before Harry could stop him, with a deeper bob at the waist the weepy house-elf vanished from sight.

The wizard carded a hand through his messy locks, staring in amazement at the spot the house-elf vacated. As the Lord Black, he certainly could order his household servant back and order him not to inflict self-punishment. But then, like Dobby, the house-elf would think of him as a messiah and feel even worse. Then the severity of the penance would escalate, and Harry definitely didn't want that. He covered his face, trying to will away the ball of guilt in his chest.

Smothering Kreacher with kindness had its advantages and its disadvantages. Certainly there was no chance to contest Kreacher's loyalty, not after Harry's rise in rank and what he'd done to raise the House of Black name back from the murky depths of disgrace. Not to mention he was, in Kreacher's eyes after the pitiful house-elf decided to make the best of his forced fealty, the next best living replacement of his dear mistress Walburga.

Muttering ill things into his gloves, he took up the stairs with light footfalls, careful not to wake the sleeping portrait nearby, who still screamed insults at him but sometimes railed about how asinine a thick half-blood like him could think to compose himself as a proper Black lord when Sirius could not. Fortunately the wizard excelled in the Stealth and Tracking portion of the Auror Training, meaning he did not have the clumsy tendency of the late Nymphadora Tonks to trip over the troll leg umbrella stand—which functioned as Walburga's alarm—in the foyer.

Upon reaching the third landing, Harry used his intuition to seek out Sesshomaru, uncertain if his guest had stayed put or decided to explore his new environment. In the Minister's Office yesterday, Harry's Japanese companion had done something to him, something that made his magic feel…stranger that it already had been. In the end he had determined it wasn't anything serious, but his heightened awareness of the demon lord was discombobulating. If he concentrated, he could detect that alien brand of magic beckoning him in the direction of…Buckbeak's old room.

The temper that he'd dampened threatened to overload his rational mind once more. With an annoyed exhale, he dug his nails into his palms and thought about calming subjects. Sweeping his gaze to the exposed crack, Harry could make out past the door hanging marginally ajar that the bed in his master bedroom was unmade. The wizard repressed the urge to roll his eyes.

Although he knew the demon had sharp hearing—he was going to find the limits of that, to be sure—it was courteous to warn someone before barging in. Bringing his gloved fist to the door, he rapped the wood sharply, to alert Sesshomaru he only had a few seconds to make himself decent.

After an awkward beat, shivers ran down his back as the deep timbre on the other side invited him to come in.

* * *

There was something compelling observing the walking, breathing historical figure trying to relate and work out what he and contemporary wizards took for granted. At the breakfast table, with the candle lit between them Harry was engrossed in secretly watching the royal dog demon finally give into his curiosity and sample what Kreacher had set out for them, after Harry had explained patiently they needed to know what would be acceptable fare in case they ever were in the situation where they had no choice but to dine on Muggle or wizard cuisine. The demon had previously looked at the spread with obvious disdain and voiced in traditional Japanese that Harry's generosity was a waste, repeating what he'd said the night before about a daiyōkai's appetite. The Head Auror had shrugged, informing him whether or not Sesshomaru chose to humor his concerns and provide him a frame of reference was entirely up to the demon lord, but they weren't in a hurry to leave when he had posts to sort through. He'd indicated to the small pile gathered at the head of the table.

Hiding behind the latest _Daily Prophet_, Harry found it ironic that the order the royal inuyōkai set out sampling the dishes was the same sequence Harry demonstrated eating to show his guest that they weren't poisoned. He'd discerned, when not eating raw meat, Lord Sesshomaru had a light palate and despised chocolates, preferring foods at their natural states with the exception of candied fruits and nuts and Harry's own favorite treacle tarts. He avoided the wackier foodstuff, abhorred spices, and refused to touch wizard fare.

Harry accredited it to Sesshomaru's demonic heritage and to his suspicion that Japanese diet of back then was often simple and bland. He supposed he should accept his theory about fruit being alright to the demon's appetite being partially confirmed. Just as he emptied the last drops of the draught into his gullet, a pain-glazed Kreacher popped in with a little slightly familiar owl with a flattened, hawk-like head balanced on top of his cranium and a colorful letter in its beak.

"Master," Kreacher said wobblingly, looking very miserable, "youse have a letter."

The dog demon divested his attention from the foreign dish he'd been scrutinizing and fixed both Harry and Kreacher with an eerie stare. Pretending not to notice, Harry folded the newspaper neatly into a tiny square and set it and the phial aside with the magazines and official letters he'd skimmed for relevant material and to catch up on what he'd missed from his latest intercontinental jaunt. The letter from Ginevra remained untouched. Coming around the table, he gently pried the owl's talons from Kreacher's flesh. As thanks, he closed the small puncture marks on Kreacher's flesh with a tap of his wand and dismissed him with a not-so-subtle hint for him to take the rest of the day off to recuperate.

Scanning the contents, Harry absently fed the owl—the Lovegood's messenger apparently, according to the letterhead—crumbled pieces of bacon. By the time he got to the bottom of the letter, from his peripheral vision he saw the demon lord's tall form had leaned in and was attempting to outstare the little owl on the wooden countertop. Fighting a smile, Harry illuminated, "I'm sure you remember the blond bloke we met yesterday at the Ministry. This is his family's personal owl. We wizards and witches use owls and birds capable of long distance flight as our message carriers. Mr Lovegood wants to meet us at Hagrid's hut for the interview I promised him; y'know near the forest we visited earlier."

Lifting his gaze from the owl, Sesshomaru divided a long, thoughtful look between the wizard and his wand before candidly stating, "The sorcery this Hari's packmate casted has ceased. It is needless to keep this Sesshomaru in the dark."

"Oh!" His eyes widened. He lifted the Holly wand, feeling a pang of understanding when the muscles underneath the kimono tensed. "Sorry about that. Hold still."

After it was done, with a contrite expression he added apologetically in English, "The translation spell can only cover so much and is a poor substitution for actual mastery of a language. But lest you manage to learn our language, I suggest you come to me or Hermione to reapply the spell daily. If you want, I can send you instructive aid." When the dog demon remained apathetic, Harry sighed and continued, "Mr Lovegood personally requested you to come, Lord Sesshomaru. If I end up speaking for you throughout, he'll think something is up. I'll try to make this as short as possible, if you can't stand him. But making him happy is paramount to having our access to his daughter remaining unhindered."

"Do as you will," Sesshomaru said passively in his equally accented English, redirecting his attention to the letter in Harry's hands. With a small frown, he posed, "This Hari's packmate…is in a fragile condition, but is tasked to research methods to send this Sesshomaru back to his Western Lands. Should she not receive assistance from her alpha and her mate?"

For a moment Harry's mind drew a blank, and then he remembered despite his well-bred demeanor Sesshomaru was a magical creature from feudal times. He could've smacked his forehead.

"We shouldn't underestimate her research skills," he said slowly, tiptoeing around the hint of sexism detected from Sesshomaru's carefully formed words. "I know she's pregnant, but if she wants to help neither I nor Ron could stop her from doing what she does best. Considering I'm very high-profile, if I start asking questions people will start noticing. Hermione, on the other hand, she has a reputation that works in our favor. The Minister has good intentions, but Hermione is always one step above everyone else and for some odd reason she's very territorial about who to include in her investigations. She's already acquired few texts about Japanese demonology and culture she's also going to make copies of and send over to us. We're hoping to find a record of your existence."

And of his exploits, so they could use that to check their actions and flow of information.

While he had been updating him of their status, Sesshomaru had studied him with a keen, hawkish discernment to indicate he'd been following along. Yet his expression remained disbelieving that a pregnant witch, let alone a woman, would be that capable. "This Hari is confident in his packmate's skills."

A genuine smile stretched across the wizard's mouth; in the back of his mind he knew, horrible as it sounds, it made him look disarming and trustworthy. Stroking the head of the owl nuzzling against his fingers, he agreed, "Very confident. I have placed my honor and wellbeing in her hands, and we both have come out alive and better from our established faith in our individual abilities."

"You are mistaken if you believe a similar accord exists within all parties."

The smile waned and the antipathy he felt for their forced living arrangements and all that entitled reared its ugly head. Staring atop of the owl's head, for one indecisive moment of silence, his awareness that he was harboring an ancient detached sovereign in his estate came crashing into him like a bucketful of ice. He felt a wash of dismay. Kreacher's words resurfaced in his mind and now seeing the purpose behind the house-elf's words, Harry could feel the change come over him as he lapsed to the mask Lord Potter Black Peverell donned as his public image. Never had he been so glad there was a physical obstacle between them.

In a deliberately controlled tone, he murmured, "I agree, personally we have long ways to go. Trust is not as easily given between two lords of their own wills and philosophies. We both live our separate lives yet you are forced to be dependent on me and I am forced to provide for you. Also you are a creature of myth, romanticized by Muggle and Asian cultures. Today's religious westerners and Muggle-borns fancy demons to spawn from hell. And unlike some other magical creatures, we haven't written legislation that'd grant you amenity from Light wizards. If word gets out, it's not hard to imagine you'd be hunted and persecuted as a Dark Creature under decree of the International Confederation of Wizards, unfortunately. That is a sad end for someone who has lived as long as you have."

Sesshomaru's silent, indulgent air registered in his brain and Harry was pleased other than that the demon lord showed no negative reaction to his perceived threat. That emboldened him to voice aloud: "Please don't misunderstand. Believe me or not, this is not an elaborate hoax to entrap or purify you. The magical community simply hasn't progressed very far in spite of our efforts."

Dropping his gaze, unaware baggage accompanied his next few words he also disclosed, "Unlike some people, I try to reserve judgment before I condemn someone. Unlike the Minister, I won't even try to make you conform into our societal mold of what is right and wrong."

"You are very presumptuous to think you could overpower this Sesshomaru primarily," the baritone drawled with a clear warning embedded within.

"Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to sound presumptuous," Harry backtracked, thinking quickly about how to salvage the situation. Sensing the rising tension, the small owl beneath his fingers shrunk into itself, trying to disappear from sight. Harry peered down at it with a pitying expression. "It's not that difficult to suss out your general personality and character."

Setting the small owl aside where it could decide to flee or not, he said calculatingly, "Again, I implore you to remember I bear you no ill will. To attack you after all the trouble we've gone though would be counterproductive. Having been in your company these past few days, it'd be remiss of me to forego you aid for something that isn't your fault."

_Avada Kedavra_ green glimmered like hard emeralds, luminous in the dark. With the flap of wings taking off in their background, his voice lowered he warned, "But you are in my time, in a territory where I am familiar with the underlying mechanism of society. You don't have to like my colleagues but you will listen to me. As long as you don't get in my way or do anything that force me to take action, my estate will be made welcome to you. I shall assist you with all the power in my disposal. And I will get you home. All I ask is your continued cooperation and patience and that you continue to exercise restraint."

Twin pools of molten gold equally glowed under their dim lighting, meeting the challenge with interest. Feathers drifted down from the air in between the two lords. As if proclaiming his side of a verbal contract, the daiyōkai declared, "We possess similar beliefs. For now, this Sesshomaru willingly accommodate your needs but make no mistake." Straightening up, he gazed into the Head Auror's dark expression head-on. "It is this Hari who has a responsibility to this Sesshomaru. Only as long as this Sesshomaru remains here, as long as this Hari resides in my favor, this pact will stand."

"Understandable." Harry smiled grimly. "I'll concede...were I in your situation, with nothing but your grace and leniency to buoy myself I doubt you would expect any different of me."

* * *

Given discipline, this Hari could manipulate the most strong willed of yōkai, this Sesshomaru determined. Staring at the junction between the wizard's shoulder blades, he mentally pieced together all Hari revealed and the words not said aloud prior to _Apparating_ outside Hogwarts grounds. They all culminated in a decree for Sesshomaru to accept Hari's dominion without challenge, but then the green-eyed daiyōkai acknowledged he understood how difficult it was for the royal inuyōkai who had been an alpha of his own right. To dare voice the intimation the Lord of the Western Lands wouldn't treat him with the honor and generosity this Hari had provided him both served as an implied insult and proved his deft hand at exploitation. The wording was persuasive, if a bit loquacious and roundabout, but it still served its purpose getting his message across.

He'd been staring at the castle with an unimpressed look and upon noticing his scrutiny, after fighting an amused smile, Hari had told him they'll have to leave the full tour for later once he was sure this Sesshomaru was not a threat to the children. He'd given the green-eyed daiyōkai a poisonous look and Hari bravely returned a cynical expression, a reaction which rattled the primal part within this Sesshomaru.

Were he to pretend to adhere to this Hari, his fictitious subservience would be enough to derail the contemporary hanyous and humans from entertaining dangerous thoughts. His gaze resettled on the stonemasonry of the two small huts adjoined together, glowering at the distant building as if he blamed the poor construction for landing him in this demeaning state, for Hari's doubt in him.

"This Sesshomaru has a human charge that's stayed by this Sesshomaru's side," he divulged at one point, incapable of overlooking the slight against his honor.

Hari's measured gait slowed. He asked nonchalantly, "Oh?"

He remained silent. While they grew closer to their destination, Sesshomaru was deliberating the pros and cons of revealing more of his private life. This volatile situation was not unlike the political feud that arose between two historic demon lords he'd read about from his sire's scrolls. But unlike the historic feud, Sesshomaru was given an opportune fortune to discover the future, if he played his cards right. His chance mostly hinged on his benefactor's mood and continued goodwill.

"What is your ward's name?" Hari spoke up again, this time with genuine curiosity raised.

Molten gold peered aside at the tolerant face that for once was gracing him with an emotion other than apathy and misgivings. The reward of reconciliation and renewed respect would be beneficial and outweighed the hefty price of having his perceived omnipotence being chipped away. This once, he could swallow his pride to gain the upper hand of their psychological warfare. Deciding to take the plunge, unaware a twinge of warmness crept into his tone, he finally answered, "Rin."

To acknowledge those that bound this Sesshomaru with ties of affection was equivalent to sharing his weakness with an opponent. Yet Hari was reared with human sentiment. After his deliberate confession, he could feel the demonic energies between them shift back into a semblance of the same grudging respect that had transpired between the two daiyōkais.

He honestly couldn't care if people found out about his pedigree, but it seemed to matter to this Hari. The prospective prejudice was a concern for his transitory pack alpha, and Sesshomaru would think him weak were he not reminded of similar concerns that plagued him when his sire took a human as his mate and impregnated her. With a restrained sniff, he peered around the grounds-keep, taking in the winter squashes growing in the little garden below the doorstep and the general lack of security around the hut. Drops of mildew followed alongside their delicate curves, appearing as transparent pearls scant seconds away from slithering down into the soil. Under the robust smell of wet earth, a collective strong rank of peasants and other game birds and beasts once making their homes here amassed under his nose, muddling all the other scents that might've made themselves known to the royal inuyōkai.

Quietly observing their surroundings, he did not miss when Hari knocked on the door, announcing their arrival to the half breed within. There was a scuffle of bare feet pattering against the floorboards and when the door swung open, from the proximity a blast of unidentified chemicals and enhanced smell of flowers struck him like a blow and dazed his olfactory senses.

"One step back, and two steps forward," a light and airy, childlike voice spoke up with a tint of negativity. "I suppose that's better than how we started off."

His eyes watering, he could barely make out a blur of waist-length, dirty blonde curls styled haphazardly with gaudy hair ornaments that nearly overwhelmed the small pale face it was shrouding. Blinking rapidly to clear his sight, his golden gaze focused on a wide-set of silvery eyes staring up at them absentmindedly, as if her mind was at a distance. He recognized the elaborateness of the Keicho kosode which was decorated with chrysanthemum and seven treasures textile embroidered with traces of applied gold leaf against the dyed reddish-orange silk to belong to someone of high financial station. The fact that it was damask silk—not satin or worse—and were weaved with hints of imperial colors garnered his interest. She wore an unorthodox necklace and earrings that contradicted her regal image. Sesshomaru looked to Harry impatiently for insight on what to do with their newest accompaniment.

"Luna?" Hari aired softly, disbelievingly, his polite mask slipping away like water. He too blinked repeatedly and he tried in vain to stop his nose from scrunching up. With a slightly strangled sigh, he asked, "Why do you smell like you took a dive in a bathful of flowers?"

"Today felt like a special day. I apologize if it's a bit strong. Rolf got it for me and. Well." She shrugged carelessly. "Lovegood Luna, milords. I was expecting your company."

The female smiled and immediately bobbed a curtsey, looping a foot behind her ankle delicately. Hari returned their introductions. Straightening up, she hopped aside and sought them to come in with a slightly dreamy cast in her invitation, which concerned Sesshomaru. Tilting her head, she shared, "Sorry Daddy couldn't come. I insisted."

She shut the door behind them ominously.

"You insisted?" There was an odd inflection in the green-eyed daiyōkai's dulcet accent, one that the hanyou also picked up.

The female shook her head and requested them to please make themselves comfortable, gesturing to the roundtable in the middle of the hut's one living quarter. She'd teetered dangerously and tripped once in the short distance it took to reach the table. Ham and pheasants were strung in yarn from the ceiling. In the corner was a massive futon with a patchwork quilt that looked too big to have belonged to the female. The windows were painted shut, much to the lords' twin dismay. Once they took their seats—Sesshomaru found it odd to be sitting ceremoniously on the furniture instead of kneeling, considering their humble environment—with her attention divested in the empty air between the two alphas, she pushed the six teacups—a set of three for each—with transparent liquid within to them and said, "Please, drink. I had Hagrid heat up our refreshments before he left to teach class. It'll help the shock you've both been in these past few days."

Hari frowned, hands automatically curling around a glazed ceramic. "We've been in shock?" he parroted. Similarly the inuyōkai shared his skepticism.

"Everyone deals with shock differently. The only way you can tell, I guess, is that they're not acting fully themselves." Her protuberant eyes clouded with thought. She shifted in her gigantic wooden seat, adjusting her long sleeves on the table to avoid getting the dampened tea leaves on the beautiful material. She smiled absently, sweetly. "If you weren't, Harry, you wouldn't have missed a lot of the doors now open to you. You've always liked linearity. Sadly a knack for risk and luck seem more to your calling."

Her mouth descended into a small pout, appearing like the picture of a princess disparaged by her lord. "And you wouldn't have forgotten to comment on my dress. I went through great troubles dressing up for you two."

"Er." Hari's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "It-it's very pretty!"

A light, tinkling bell-like giggle escaped from her, and she shook her head with suppressed mirth. "It's alright, Harry. I was kidding. You've never been good at these sorts of things." Lowering her voice, she shared conspiratorially, "Daddy and I suspect you've been bitten by a rare Mackled Malaclaw. You've been unlucky for a great number of your life."

"Err."

Dropping her gaze at their untouched cups, she raised a pale eyebrow. Upon seeing her disappointment, Hari took a small polite sip of the light, fragrant rice wine Sesshomaru had detected, that unlike hers, was inside theirs. The green-eyed daiyōkai immediately spluttered and coughed from the surprised swallow he'd taken.

"I beg pardon, Harry, for not telling you. I'd been to Japan before. They have a hilarious culture and programs. Hm, an enlightening trip actually. You've had Odgen's finest, so I thought you should be able to tolerate their sake's low alcoholic content." Beaming sunnily at him, she lowered her head demurely and peered at them through a thick screen of lashes. She requested, "Please, milords, I simply served you alcohol in hopes of helping you relax, not to get you drunk. There's no need to raise your guards. I'm a humble wizarding naturalist. I don't enjoy the silence very much."

"Get to your point," Sesshomaru spoke up, tired of dancing around the real issue. His brows knitting, he ignored Hari at his side who was issuing him with a startled but reproving look. Tasting the perfume in the back of his throat he said stiffly, "You know something we don't."

Taking a swallow of her tea, she looked at him with a strange perceptiveness beyond her physical years. Nursing her drink, she fidgeted in her seat and she murmured conversationally, "I've heard rumors Harry brought back a magical creature. Hearing that, I had to see the ambassador myself. I had to leave my fiancé behind in Ireland, alone, with my relatives." She shook her long mane, muttering, "Poor Rolf."

"This Sesshomaru has heard you may have answers," he restated, disregarding the gratuitous information.

"Ohh," she said, in a slightly sing-song tone. Glancing up, she beamed. "You're quite good at being patronizing. It's rather hard to say no or go against you. No wonder you are formidable."

"People think that?" Hari demanded, depositing the cup on the roundtable with a muted thud. He not so-surreptitiously pushed it far away from him.

Sensing her guests' moods taking a detour, she said soothingly, "No, no. Not yet. A healthy dose of fear goes hand in hand with commanding respect, I find. It's the makings of any good leader actually. I've heard a lot while I've been away. You're still in good standing with the magical community though." Tilting her head, her lids lowered half-mast as she entreated, "This conversation is as cold and slow as your relationship. Harry, why don't you reintroduce me to Lord Sesshomaru? I don't think my reception from before did the atmosphere justice. We won't feel comfortable talking when you two are like this."

Brows lifted into his fringe, with a searching look Hari ultimately complied with her whim. Gesturing ostentatiously at the female hanyou, he spoke indulgently, "Lord Sesshomaru, this is Lovegood Luna, my friend from my formal educational years."

"Ravenclaw," she added.

"Right. She was from a different House." Hari peered curiously at her royal getup, clearly unaccustomed to the sight. "But she's trustworthy and brave and smart. All and all, she's brill. Luna's always been a one of a kind witch."

"Such kind words. Thank you, Harry. You are exceptional also."

Hari's elbows slid from underneath him, and he nearly face-vaulted into the tabletop. Forest green orbs snapped up. It was a curious reaction. Before Sesshomaru could come to a conclusion, the female suddenly laughed uproariously and drew both of their attention.

"Hee….it's nice to know things…haven't changed," she exclaimed, gasping for breath. Doubled over her tea, her delicate frame—dwarfed by the miles and miles of luxurious fabric—shook with hilarity.

Hari's doe-eyed look relaxed. "Yeah," he sighed breathlessly, straightening up in his seat. There was tenderness to his expression that wasn't there before. "It hasn't."

Under his throbbing migraine, Sesshomaru studied their interaction vigilantly. This Hari and this female—it was hard to form a concrete analysis with that damnable, headache-inducing perfume—intermingling had a distinct air of nostalgia and closeness that was not as prominent as the other hanyous they'd come across. The heiress of the man-child of yesterday had a similarly pure, childlike simplicity to her that he wouldn't be above venturing to say resembled Rin. He stared down into his untouched cup, peering at his reflection interplayed against the rippling surface.

He wasn't sure what game she was playing. Her demeanor and words were common and unrefined, yet this female was dressed to indicate a high station or favor with someone of a higher station. The rice wine she served them was also unusual. The daiyōkai wasn't sure if Hari or this Luna recognized sake production was rare and was therefore typically considered a measure of wealth and status. Earlier Lord Hari James Potteru provided a banquet for this Sesshomaru but the selection of food was so foreign and far from what he'd been used to he'd nearly retreated from his improvisation, from his strategy to gather intelligence of how he'd wean Hari off of possibly the addictiveness and/or comfort of human food. He wasn't surprised sweetened treats were offered to him, despite their scarcity and fee most peasants weren't able to afford.

It also reminded him that he had yet to see a farmer or laborer working any field or crops, so the availability of their expensive fare was puzzling.

"Is there a problem?"

Sesshomaru shifted from his thoughts upon Hari's inquiry. Peering at his company, instead he observed aloud, "Unlike this Hari's packmate, she does not smell like yours."

"You're able to smell her _over_ _that_ _perfume_?" Hari reiterated skeptically, leaning back in his seat to make a point.

"As alpha, this Hari's protective claim would conquer all other scents no matter how strong they are." He tilted his head, slightly bewildered the young lord did not know. Then it occurred to him not all yōkai had a heightened sense of smell as an inuyōkai's. Repressing a frown, he explicated, "That is why this Sesshomaru could detect the beta was one of this Hari's pack, despite her being claimed by a mate. Yet this female does not have that distinction."

"I was never part of the Golden Trio," the female gasped, barely having composed herself. Her head lain atop of the wooden table, turning on a cheek she peered unwaveringly up at them. "But that's a nice thought, to belong to Harry that is. He is, after all, my best friend. I don't think I'd mind the station."

"Oh…Luna…." Hari's voice soured with guilt. His bright forest green orbs dulled in sadness, he murmured, "All you had to do was ask. I've always been fond of you. You're like the little sister I never had."

She smiled mysteriously, appearing unaffected by his words. Yet disappointment and frustration was laced deep within her yokai, with tendrils of her demonic energy managing to escape. Before Sesshomaru could make sense of it, the faint traces of energy that'd been licking their way up Sesshomaru's revealed skin were recollected back. A pair of molten gold orbs narrowed.

Changing the subject, the female pup asked in her slightly melodic, whispery voice: "That reminds me, I've had lovely tea with Andy recently. We've gotten quite close while you've been away. She makes nice biscuits. One of our subjects was about your godson, Teddy." Canting her head, she sat up in a strange way and beamed innocently, her cheeks flushed from earlier. "Because the baby's due soon, he'd been barred from staying over at the Burrow. He's missed you, Harry."

Hari bit his lower lip, looking away to his side. His fists clenched.

"I think you should consider fire-calling Andy."

"Why?" he asked softly.

Leaning over the table, the female reached for Hari, placing a gentle hand over his gloved knuckles. "Why?" she repeated, peering up into his shuttered gaze. "Surely you know the reason why I care."

The wizard looked down at their enjoined hands.

"Think of your godson. Think of Teddy. He hasn't seen his godfather in ages. You've been so busy with your Auror duties and being in different countries, you've never had the chance to pay him a visit."

The lord appeared properly chastised.

"I don't mean to be rude," she smiled and patted his clenched hand, "but don't you think that's a bit selfish of you?"

The edges of Sesshomaru's mouth threatened to twitch up. Beneath her childish demeanor, she was a hanyou who could unconsciously wind Hari around her little finger. He should feel affronted for this Hari but the equally childish part of him felt vindictive glee for the younger daiyōkai getting his comeuppance. It took great effort to curb his growl. He swallowed his finger-serving of rice wine, enjoying the nostalgic small burn in the back of his throat. He didn't miss the pleased look that crossed the female's face.

She switched her attention back to the subject at hand. Upon reading the lord's hesitancy, she frowned. She reached up and tapped his cheek. "Oh, Harry. None of that, you hear? There's nothing to be cautious of leaving me behind with Lord Sesshomaru." Taking Hari's startled gaze in stride, she continued, "I did fine in the war, didn't I? I can handle myself. Didn't you say you trusted me? So trust me when I say I'm curious about dog demons, especially one of Lord Sesshomaru's reputation and caliber."

Both Hari's and Sesshomaru's semi-casual miens instantly shuttered and they raised their guards up. Taking a calm sip of her cooling tea, she whispered genteelly, hiding her little, knowing smile, "Is it really that hard to believe? It's my job to believe in the existence of many creatures that few do simply because they have forgotten about them." She placed her cup down and tapped her blunt nails against the ceramic in thought. With pursed lips, she informed them merrily: "Don't be like the bigoted sheep, milords. We are not authentic gods. Rather we are shades of their munificence and charity. We have to accept changes, good or bad, because they are often for a greater purpose."

"Luna," Hari's mouth descended into a deep grimace, "focus. How is that relevant to how you've come across this information about Lord Sesshomaru?"

Her features were kept absently pleasant even as Hari clasped her hands between his as a physical play to get her to confess her supplemental knowledge. Humming in the back of her throat, she peered down distractedly at the cold sunbeam that fell over the well-worn grooves of the table. "You two hear, but you don't _listen_." She pouted, pulling her hands away and tucking them in her lap. "I said it's a part of my job as a Magizoologist to know all sorts of creatures, demons aside. I've come across a mated pair actually."

"Who?" Sesshomaru demanded, sitting up in his full height. His mind ran through all the mated couples he'd known or were registered by his wide information networks. His gaze dropped to her kosode. "They are the ones who gifted you your present dress."

"Quite astute, Lord Sesshomaru. Yes, they were very nice with their hospitality. Who they are, unfortunately, I can't tell you." She shook her head regretfully. "They like their privacy. They're actually quite well-hidden away."

"Well?" Hari stated. He straightened up in his seat. He said cautiously, "Do you know the full backstory of the ambassador?"

"I know he's not actually an ambassador," she stated calmly. "And I know he's not from this time. And that the Bone Eater's Well is a time travelling portal."

A blanket of silence descended upon the three. The roll of wind gusted around their cottage, whizzing and blowing against the stonework and rotten wooden beams, rattling the windows. Both green and gold stared wide-eyed at the pale silvery gaze.

The first to break the stillness, the female made a flippant sound and she flapped her hand in the air dismissively, an action reminiscent of her sire's. "Hermione made sure to update me before I came. Your secret's still safe, if that's what you doubt. Please, relax, milords. I wouldn't want you to get wrinkles. You have such pretty faces."

"What else has Hermione informed you?" Hari said numbly, disregarding her compliment.

"She thinks something's stopping the well from being utilized if it is what she thinks it is." She brought a hand to her cheek, genuinely curious by his cautionary tone. "Is it so surprising that I know this?"

His eyes narrowed. "I find it surprising she told you this much when she hasn't updated me of her findings yet."

"Ah." She nodded distractedly. Her pale gaze intent on the closed door behind them, she murmured, "I can help you both with the cultural aspects, but I can only do so much. You'll have to take my advice and run with it. Or at least the ones you choose to listen to. I still have to do preliminary research. Hmm, that being said.…"

The female reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small velvet pouch, dropping it in Hari's hands. "Here. Go talk to Andy, Harry. It'll be like ripping a Band-Aid off of the wound. It'll be better than prolonging the torture, don't you think? I promised Daddy I would interview Lord Sesshomaru. You being here makes him more tight-lipped, _dattebyo_."

The younger daiyōkai blinked owlishly, his fingers automatically curling around the pouch deposited. He surveyed the specks of glittery ash that spilled out over his leather gloves. He looked up slowly. "This is Floo powder."

"Yes, that's what it'd be," she agreed, also stating the obvious. "Sadly Hagrid's mantle here is broken. You'd have to go outside to the other quarter. Shoo. Lord Sesshomaru has nothing to fear from me. We'll be done with your cover story we'll be printing in the _Quibbler_. Having a different angle from our competitors will make ours stand out from the rubbish out there."

When Hari hesitated once more, remaining in his seat, her protuberant eyes widened and grew slightly misty. Her lips quivering, she said sadly, "You were blowing hot air after all. You don't trust me."

"No, no! It's not that!" The chair scooted back with a muffled screech. The pouch was clasped tightly in a white-knuckled grip. "I-I'll go fire-call them right now." Pivoting on his heels, he marched to the door. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, he hesitated. Not looking back, he asked, "Are you going to be alright?"

Sesshomaru wasn't sure if the question was directed to him or the female across from him. His lips parted, he'd been ready to dismiss Hari's concerns when the female sighed, "We'll be fine, Harry. Please. Leave. Stop delaying the inevitable."

With jerky movement, Hari did what he was told and walked out, leaving them alone. Sesshomaru hadn't realized his attention had been divested in the spot the green-eyed daiyōkai had vacated until the female exclaimed breathlessly, "Don't mind him. He's usually not this rude. He just doesn't know what to make of milord yet. That man…he's been a product of society so long he doesn't know what to do sometimes if there's no one to tell him."

Golden pools stilled and refocused on the female, who fixed him with a knowing smile and a dimmed twinkle in her eye like she knew the punch line to her deprecating black humor. Raising a brow, he directed, "Explain."

She took another sip of her tea, smiling broadly.

"Why are you smiling?" he demanded, feeling a sudden pang of déjà vu. Frowning, he set the odd sensation away and continued, "I simply asked a question. I don't care. I'm just curious."

Her absent expression cleared and a tender look flitted across her eyes, which instantly made him wary. Taking a deep breath, she set aside the cup and brought her hands to the table, sliding them in her long sleeves. She entreated, "Lord Sesshomaru, I think of him as my older brother. You will make this girl very happy if she may hear your honest designs on her Lord Harry."

Her voice was soft, but there was a hint of steel in it. Sesshomaru knew very well that the female hadn't meant to offend him with her insinuation, but it was the earnest eyes turned on him that melted his firm resolution to keep silent. "Ri-," he paused, upset that he'd get her address wrong. With _her_ name nonetheless. "Luna," he said stubbornly, making the conscious effort to differentiate the two girls in his mind. "Your prior demonstration showed your knowledge of this Sesshomaru's misfortune."

"A little. But not as much as you think I do, milord," Luna admitted, bowing her head in supplication. She had an odd expression she'd tried to hide. Swinging her feet restlessly, her hands fidgeting in her sleeves, she repeated, "May I know of this Sesshomaru's intentions? I worry about him sometimes."

Sesshomaru was bewildered by her concern. Hadn't he been treating this Hari well-deserved by his station? Evidently not, if she couldn't discern such. He said coolly, almost indulgently, "This Hari is in servitude of this Sesshomaru, as his tribute for allowing this mishap to befall divine royalty. In return of his hospitality, this Sesshomaru shall teach him the responsibilities of our ways."

A foot froze mid-kick as she contemplated his words. She tilted her head again like a bird. Her sleeves brought underneath her chin in a prayer-like formation, at last she asked, "Would this cover correcting Harry's disastrous courting attempts?"

"How freely you share intimate secrets with an outsider."

"No, I don't…" Underneath the heavy material, she slipped two fingers out and held them up against a covered wrist. "In his life, I think he's only seriously considered two females for courting. From what I heard, you've met one of them already. The other one, sadly, things had not worked out."

Her fingers receded back into her sleeves, she continued, "For someone of his station, it's odd that he remains unattached. With his reputation he won't be for long, not if our magical community has anything to say about it."

"You would force him into a political sham of an official mating," Sesshomaru concluded, his mind working at a hundred miles per minute at the gossip she'd been willing to share with him. He was not unfamiliar to the lower yōkais' predilection for gossip-mongering, having seen the use of it to broaden his information networks. This Hari was inoffensive to the eye, young, healthy, powerful, and of good bloodlines. Best of all, he had a semblance of intelligence inside that head of his and had tact. It didn't surprise him the lord was sought-after.

He had not yet seen how Hari would react in combat situations—though he'd gotten a glimpse from their initial confrontation—but he wouldn't put it past several daiyōkais, were Hari a pureblooded demoness in his time, to have snatched the gem up and offer her service in their respective kingdoms.

"Me?" Luna sat up with a jolt. "Oh no, never me. I hope he forgives us for discussing his private life behind his back, but I believe true love and monogamy is best-suited for him, unlike some fellows. You may sneer at my romantic notion, but I'm aware of Harry's predilections. With his history, he needs someone strong to support him. Someone who won't hold him back, who won't judge him, and will always challenge him to push himself. Unlike most people, I have his best interest at heart that even he cannot fathom."

"Hn. Your loyalty to him goes beyond your vassalage."

"I-I don't judge him for being different." She peeped down at her bare toes, cheeks reddening. "He does the same for me. He looks out for me. I try to do the same or at least provide a small measure of what he has done for all of us."

The inuyōkai surveyed her embarrassment with climbing eyebrows, his previously headache dulling from prolonged exposure to her scent. For Sesshomaru to intervene in a daiyōkai's intimate affairs—which definitely wasn't any of his business—it'd have to be a pressing concern that'd preside over his immediate plan to train Hari into a respectable daiyōkai in the time they had left together. His brows furrowed. He said slowly, "From what you're saying, this Hari has done much for his people. He has an obligation to them you think is beyond his station. You do not approve of what is expected of him."

"People should marry to be cherished," she shrugged. "No matter who you are. At least, that's what I think. Don't you think it'd be a sad existence otherwise? If you're going to be spending the rest of your life with that person, why foster it on deceit and conjured expectations? Love is power, power is survival." The female brought her silk sleeve to her mouth, muffling her next words: "For some time I thought Harry was fated to be with Ginny. Their inevitable destiny changed after battle."

"And you could tell?"

"They're not together, yet everyone else is or will be. Common sense would dictate either he's unlucky, slow in asking, or he's been waiting for someone. I think it's a larger power at play here."

"Your substantiation being…?"

"Old Magic works in mysterious ways. I dabble in a little Divination nowadays. I might not be as skilled as Parvati, but I've had long talks with Firenze about the future. He's very knowledgeable about the unknown."

"Who is this Firenze you speak of?"

Her lips lifted. "He's a centaur who studies astrology, um, stars and constellations and big planetary movements. He was a better Divination teacher than the one Hogwarts had before, in my opinion. The last year I had him, he admitted to me once after inviting me to his colony that he'd seen a change in the stars one stormy night; that 'no longer was the moon alone in its divinity. The moon and lightning had intertwined fates.'" She shrugged, rubbing a silk sleeve against her cheek in thought. "He also admitted he had something to drink before and it might've been the Firewhiskey talking."

"Fire…whiskey?"

"Imagine a spirit very much stronger than sake," she explained gaily. Tapping her toes together in a choreographed rhythm, she aired nonchalantly, "Do you have someone to protect, Lord Sesshomaru?"

All color drained from his face. It was as if a jolt of lightning struck him where he stood, sending tremors up his spine. He felt a chill, then a flush of hot suspicion that surprised even him. "Where did you hear that?" he managed to say stoically, remaining upright. He'd barely kept the feral edge from his voice.

"Hm?" She peered up. "I'm sure that you do, but not in the way your father expected."

His face tightened, and Luna watched with alarm as a golden fire raged in his eyes. Perhaps if she wasn't so near and he'd been in a better mood, he would not have reacted the way he did. One moment he was sitting, the next he was grabbing her by her wrist. The young witch winced as iron-sharp claws bit into her flesh. "How have you come across this information?" he asked softly, mindful of the lord outside. The eyes he turned on her were frighteningly lifeless, for all their heat.

"Bane has placed me under an oath of silence," she whimpered out, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out and alerting Hari outside. Luna dropped into a submissive form, angling her body so that her belly and her pale neck faced his direction. "I can't give anything important away without losing my magic. Please, milord, do not render me incapable of providing you aid. I seek to ally Hari with this Sesshomaru."

He took harsh breaths. Sesshomaru eventually released her, tearing his claws away from her, uncaring of the blood that seeped from her wounds. Immediately casting her sorcery to heal the punctures, Luna rubbed at the already bruising flesh. She watched, concerned, as the tall inuyōkai placed a steadying hand on the table, trying to curb his bared teeth and bringing his handsome face back to the hard, cold silhouette of before.

"I'm sorry I can't say much else," she said in a small voice, making him look up. "I can only push you in the right direction and hopefully give you guidance." She slouched in her seat, vision downcast. "Harry has the means of helping you in your path of conquest. Why him, I do not know, so please do not ask me that. He has no idea I am telling you this. Or any idea of what is in store. He's innocent in all this. So, please, do not ask him of that either."

"You are asking much of this Sesshomaru," he growled, burrowing his claws into the wood. "Without offering a token of faith to believe in your words."

She made another useless attempt at apologizing, but he was so busy rubbing his forehead, trying to will away the invigorated pain that he barely heard her. Eyes conflicted, she at last got to her feet and slowly presented herself before before this Sesshomaru. Gauging his cooling temper, she leaned in, wafting more of that atrocious perfume into his face with her immediacy. Her voice hushed, she shared conspiratorially, "I asked my dad for a story once, after I saw him hiding something big from me. Once you have Harry's trust…"

Luna gently placed her hands over Sesshomaru's claws—if he weren't taken aback from the smell, he'd strike her for her forwardness—and she dropped a flimsy piece of golden jewelry onto his palm, curling his fingers shut over it. She withdrew back, taking her smell and her limbs away from immediate striking range.

"…I'd like you to ask him about the Three Deathly Hallows."

Sesshomaru's brows knitted as suspicion and curiosity reared their heads. He turned the shiny bauble over numb claws, studying the triangular eye the trinket depicted. To blanket his interest, he sneered, "You ask another favor of this Sesshomaru."

"It benefits you as well. For now, I would hide that pendant. Many people get the wrong impression from looking at it." Silvery grey orbs settled back on the trinket she'd gifted him. "I'd be asking much for you to trust me. I can only…."

Breaking off, the female shifted on her feet. She clasped her hands together, looking up at him with impossibly wide eyes whose brightness showed her demonic heritage. "I do not hold your previous actions against you, milord. It was wrong of me to talk about such a sensitive nature. You are in shock. I should not have pried."

"This Sesshomaru is not so easily incapacitated," he disagreed, but he accepted the tribute, securing it under his collar. The delicate metalwork felt icy cold pressed against his skin, the sensation anchoring him, calming him. He shook his claws free from the holes he'd grated into the dark-stained wood.

"Milord, you've been thrown into a different era with no guaranteed way of getting back. Your kingdom may be in disarray. Your family may be frantic getting you back. You are in an unfamiliar land with neutral parties who could change their minds at the flip of a coin. Strangers track your every move and judge you by what you say or do. Our continued cooperation and aid hinges on what Harry ultimately thinks of you. And Harry is not in the right mood exactly." She snapped out of her depressing tirade, blinking at his hardened expression. "All that said you're taking the stress well. To have lasted this long without snapping, your patience is remarkable. I can understand your fluctuating moods."

She released a little sigh that sounded like the breath of a forlorn nightingale. "That plan of yours…I suppose…I approve. Take good care of my Lord Harry. He's lost sight of his path since his mentor died."

He honestly should not care. But the stubborn curiosity borne in all inuyōkai made itself present. Picking the small wooden chips from his claws, he restated as disinterestedly as he could: "This Hari was close to his mentor."

"Dumbledore was more than a Headmaster to him. He was Harry's guide, his magical guardian. He protected Harry, secreted him away, had him fight his battles, and molded him into the man Harry is today." An ugly red flush rose to her pale features. She bought her sleeves to her face and retreated behind them. "He was our unofficial Light Lord," she said, muffled, "ruling for what he believed to be of good intentions. After the Dark Lord's death, Harry had been forced to take up an alpha position. He was the perfect wizard to fix the vacuum of power, despite being trained since birth otherwise."

A startled noise escaped from his throat. Eyes widening, he pressed his claws against his throat, surprised to have such a sound escape from him.

Puzzled silvery gray orbs peeked behind the heavy august silk. "Oh no, please ease your mind from any thoughts of deception, milord. We've told you nothing but the truth. Harry's grown to cherish the prestige our society has readily lauded to him, since that established authority gives him the resources necessary to protect him and set him apart from everybody else. It is his unspoken due for having him fight our battles, for robbing him of his childhood. It is as much of a blessing as it is a curse."

"Indeed." His expression was schooled back into a placid, calculating mask. "Power and prestige can be a double-sided blade. In times of war, sacrifices must be made to gain the upper hand."

"Yes, you would speak from experience." She lowered her hands from her face, her demonic energy still a tightly-refrained, seething boil. "You seek to train Harry? Truly?"

"This Sesshomaru is indebted to this Hari. For his hospitality."

"Is that it?" The miasma around her stilled. Her brightly-colored irises reminded him of the moon reflected on the surface of calm silver lakes. Her voice trembling, she said, "You do not find him interesting? You do not feel compelled to figure him out? If Harry angers you, will you retaliate? If anything happens to him, a war will be waged. And your head will be hunted."

"Careful, girl," he cautioned, his golden pools flashing. "You are speaking above your station."

Luna reared back, as if slapped. Long curls slipped from her lacquered ornaments and winged down to curtain a side of her face. "Heed my words, milord, please. If you have good intentions, be patient. Nothing good will come out of punishing a disobedient creature who does not know, cannot possibly know…."

Gracefully bending over at the waist, her hands at her knees, she kowtowed before the royal dog demon lord. Her sight directed at the floorboards, her eyes burning steel, she said passionately, "Harry will never lose that fire within him. Please do not break his trust, his spirit, his heart! You cannot tame his spirit! Do not take away what makes him wonderfully Harry."

"You seem to be under the impression I will collect my dues from your lord in a dishonorable manner," he ascertained, peering down at her prostrated form with a bored look. Her head was low enough that if he wanted to he could slam his boot on the side of her skull, rendering her out of the count. His eyes narrowed. "Or that this Hari has done something reprehensible to this Sesshomaru."

"It's accidental and a fault from both parties. Equal blame must be shared. I can't tell you what it is. It goes against the conditions set. The fallout needs to happen. I know you are angry at Harry. I saw from the window when you were coming to Hagrid's hut—"

"This Sesshomaru was not angered." He felt like he'd struck gold. All was clear to him now.

The rambling ceased. Cautiously, she peered up, her expression torn between disorientation and an unidentifiable emotion. She asked timidly, "You are not angry at Harry?"

He gave her a flat look. All the anticipation built up from her words and actions, which had raised his hackles, were based on one mistaken assumption. His muscles loosened. His discovery of the basis of her mad ramblings was rather anticlimactic.

"Thank Merlin," she breathed, closing her eyes. "For a moment I thought…you will not do anything dishonorable to Harry?"

"You have stated this Hari is the key to aiding this Sesshomaru find the path to supreme conquest," he drawled lazily, having half a mind to chuck the pendant at her head. Luna was a forgetful little girl. "It is as you say. Being in Hari's good graces, this Sesshomaru has access to Hari's information networks and generosity. It'd be foolish of this Sesshomaru to cast away his hospitality."

Until he gained a strong foothold in this world, the daiyōkai was at the tender mercy of Lord Hari James Potteru and other titles he possessed. With his current level of confidence, he'd rather not roam unfamiliar territories in an unfamiliar era without an idea of how to get back to his time.

"You will treat him alright? You swear?" There was an odd lilt in her voice, one that he could not place.

"What a nonsensical request," he scoffed. "Has this Sesshomaru not made himself heard?"

"Yes, milord has," she murmured, straightening up slowly, maneuvering around the length of fabric that constricted her movements. The sedate pace she moved in brought suspicion that she was stalling. She repeated, "You swear? On your honor."

She must be addle-brained. Closing his eyes, he grunted an affirmation.

"Ohh, goody."

Luna struck.

He nearly leapt out of his skin when a thread of powerful yokai suddenly connected him to Luna, briefly surrounding him in blazing heat. The source of the warmth flickered and localized at his claws. Molten gold whirling, he stared wide-eyed at the female, struck dumb by her sudden audacity.

She started to reach for him but changed her mind, halting it in midair. She knelt down and pushing a curl behind her ear, she ceremoniously kissed the top of his boot without a lick of shame or hesitance. Her ready acceptance of her submissive, lower position was a slightly soothing salve to his agitation. He had to strain his ears to hear her whisper, "May Magic be my Witness. I, Luna Lovegood, give my approval over the official sanction between Lord Sesshomaru of the Western Lands and _Nippon_ and his not-yet future Lord Consort Harry James Potter Black Peverell. They'll have my eternal blessings forever long as they remain. So mote it be. So shall it be."

* * *

When Harry had come back, he was entreated to an odd scene. They couldn't have looked any different. Hopped atop of the table, with a faint, mischievous air Luna was sipping tea, swinging her legs and tilting her chin up at Sesshomaru's looming, motionless figure. The demon lord, on the other hand, looked like a freight train had run him over. Stopping at the threshold, the wizard asked them what happened, peering between the two with a worried look.

"Oh, nothing, Harry," Luna giggled, cupping her drink in her lap. The shine had returned to her eyes, which wasn't there when she greeted them before. "We were having a pleasant tea party and I found what I needed! My worries and questions have been satisfied. Lord Sesshomaru is most accommodating. Really, he's been a darling humoring me about my talk about planets and whatnot." Kicking her feet up, she added sweetly, "I like Lord Sesshomaru. I can see many great things coming from your alliance. I wish you both the best future."

The ball of anxiety that had buried itself in his chest from leaving her alone with an ancient demon dissipated from her words. Before he could enquire further, he noticed, from the corner of his peripheral vision, the daiyōkai coming back into himself like a stone statue coming to life. Slitted irises blinked once, then twice. And the tall frame shuddered.

"The _Quibbler_'s going to print the interview tomorrow morning. Daddy's going to be thrilled. Oh, that reminds me. I have to pick up dad's pet from a dog kennel later today." She sighed, shaking her head. "I swear. Sometimes I wonder about him. It's like he's the overgrown child our guard dog adopted as its child. I suppose it's nice how some canines can easily accept or adopt children, even children-figures," she said wryly, making Harry's guilt resurface.

Delicately jumping down, she sidestepped around Sesshomaru and skipped over to the Head Auror, bundling the hem of her traditional Japanese garb in her hands to allow for more freedom of movement. She stopped before Harry and before he knew it, she'd deposited in his hands what smelled cloyingly sweet and sticky, its gooey shape wrapped in a large leaf. "Here. For Andy, Harry," Luna said. "It's polite to give gifts when you're visiting. You'd undoubtedly want to get Teddy something too."

She leaned on the tips of her toes and she pressed her lips against his cheek, giving him a fond, sisterly peck. "Be careful now, Harry, not to work yourself to death. The Nargles would have a field day if you keeled over at your age, with nary a monogamous partner yet to support you."

Her oddly-phrased caution drifted into his head and he could feel his lips reluctantly pulled up in a smile. It was comforting that she cared. "You doubt I can take care of myself?" he teased, flicking her cute button nose. "I've been doing that since I was a boy."

She said abruptly, "But you shouldn't have had to, Harry." His gloves stilled by his sides. "Men who think they have nothing to lose think nothing of their morality. Death is no more than turning over from time to eternity but you, Harry, are not ready for that sort of eternity." She hugged him before she left, dazing him with her awful perfume. She left parting words to Sesshomaru that if he had any questions, he should feel free to owl her and that she'd be a better source of information than Hermione.

Harry peered at the place she'd vacated, his hand having been clenched in a fist. Releasing his breath, he thought back with much affection the unspoken rivalry that'd sprouted between the polar opposites with nary a day since their introduction and Hermione's unintended slight against Luna's dad. Sometimes he wondered if they were Fate's gift to him, apologizing for making him the wizarding community's whipping boy. Without looking back, Harry said blithely, "May I ask this Sesshomaru why he has a pensive expression for?"

When his question was paid back with eerie silence, he turned around. The supernaturally bright golden slits were focused on his person with such intensity that it was a wonder he did not burst into flames. Barely restraining himself from taking a subconscious step back, he ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. It was difficult to get a good read on the royal inuyōkai. He could only generalize Sesshomaru's emotive state by the minute changes of magic around him, his words, and whenever Sesshomaru's mask slipped—which was a rarity in itself, he was beginning to discover.

"It occurred to me it's twice I've been able to somewhat read you," he started slowly, hoping whatever mood the dog demon had gotten into was a temporary setback. "It's kind of sad that I consider that progress. You're a tough nut to crack and still are. But I'm an Auror. And good Aurors can usually tell when things are off. I'm sorry if it's off-putting, but it's what I've been trained to do."

Rolling his shoulders in a casual shrug, Harry admitted as offhandedly as he could, "Besides I had a shitty childhood. I learned to read people's faces to get a general idea of what's not being said." As if realizing his attempt at comforting the demon lord was painfully inadequate, since Sesshomaru retained his quietness, Harry also admitted in a low rumble, "Even so I still find a lot to be improved. I'm probably not as experienced as you are, Lord Sesshomaru, at reading people."

Sesshomaru made no reply.

Harry shifted on his feet and bit his lip. It was like being sent to the Headmaster's Office all over again. "I never realized I had many private obligations to settle," he nattered on, a bit conscious of the annoyance that had crept into his tone. Composing himself, he smiled tentatively at Sesshomaru. "I'm sorry I have to drag you around with me, especially involving you in my personal affairs. I promise you after a quick stop with Andromeda and Teddy today I'm going to concentrate on you."

* * *

Sometimes Luna had this effect on people; clearly it extended to magical creatures, time traveling lords notwithstanding.

Twisting the shiny foil on the gifts he'd procured for their spontaneous social call, Harry desperately wanted to know what had occurred between Luna and Sesshomaru in the few minutes he'd left them. Behind him trailed the still-brooding demon lord, who occasionally shot Harry's back piercing looks that made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Sesshomaru hadn't seemed to care for their visit. He seemed more concerned trying to imagine Harry as a hunk of prime meat.

The entire afternoon they spent today, the magical creature had only said one sentence to him and that was asking the wizard if Luna's words were in anyway verifiable.

Confused, he'd informed him that Luna never lied to anyone, along with some other jumble of words he honestly couldn't recall telling him but they had cemented whatever thought Sesshomaru had churning in his mind. As curious as he was, from the quick profiling he'd mentally amassed about the demon lord Harry knew better than to pry. If the magical creature thought it relevant to strike up a conversation or return an answer, he would. Otherwise he stubbornly withheld his tongue and no amount of cajoling could make him budge.

His breath came out in small white puffs in the grey London weather. To stop the chill from reaching the tips of his fingers, Harry stuffed one of his hands in his heavy fleece coat. Before they left, they'd stopped by Honeydukes and later Grimmauld, for Harry to wrap the presents and fetch a scarf and a coat. It was no good to suffer the cold if he didn't dress practically. Kreacher had left a stack of letters on his study, postmarked and sent by Hermione in the afternoon they were gone. Harry kept them inside the lining of his pockets, unopened and begging to be read.

His eyes slid to Sesshomaru covertly. The dog demon seemed alright with the nippy weather, surprisingly, considering the thin fabric of the kimono he wore. Harry supposed the armor and fluffy boa on his shoulder were enough to insulate some of his body heat.

In his ears rung echoes of the soles of their feet, pattering against the cobblestoned route to the Tonks household which was more of a countryside cottage than anything. He could see plumes of smoke from their chimney, signaling there was life in the house. That awareness made him drag out their pace as long as he could without setting off Sesshomaru's suspicions. To fill the silent walk Harry had briefly updated Sesshomaru of Andromeda's and Theodore's identities, stressing the importance of maintaining his ambassador alias and the secrecy of their research.

Sooner then he liked they reached the end of the fence, and around the corner was the stone and mortar house. They climbed the porch and stood face to face with the wooden blue door, whose paint was chipped and peeling at some edges. Twin lanterns decorated the entry, its dim light providing to guests a cheery warmth that Harry himself didn't feel. Knocking on the door with a heavy hand, he tried to shove his burgeoning nerves behind a calm, blank façade. His fingers fidgeted against the foil as an ornate iron knocker—crafted to resemble a wolf's face—melted into existence. Its enchanted mouthpiece told them in a growly voice that their arrival is received by the Lady of the House and for them to patiently wait.

The Head Auror abruptly felt a suffusion of warmth behind him and when he peered over his shoulder, he was startled to see Sesshomaru looming over him like a fluffy but intimidating security blanket. His breath hitched. From close-up the supernaturally bright molten golden pools seemed bigger than they were, more expressive than he thought they could be. Sesshomaru's masculine musk and the smell of his fur burned under his nose. Harry thought back to two days prior when they first met, when he didn't know which gender applied to this Sesshomaru in the temple grounds. Yet the solid body behind him was undeniably male.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked quietly, clenching the parcels with a white-knuckled grip.

"This Hari's yokai is agitated," the demon lord stated just as serenely, finally loosening the stone that had lodged itself up his throat. The magical creature's breath felt hot against Harry's cheek and held a faint trace of the fragrant sake they'd drunk earlier. Harry's gaze involuntarily dropped to the small, neutral cupid-bow dip of Sesshomaru's mouth.

Feeling rather lightheaded, Harry took a small step forward, putting more conscious space between them. A tide of red flowed from his neck up to his hairline, which Sesshomaru studied with great intensity. "I-I appreciate your concern. But they are family." He ran his fingers through his hair. He admitted, "I don't know why I'm acting so nervous. You shouldn't feel nervous around family, right?"

Sesshomaru measured the lord with an indulgent air, his head canted downward as if he were a dog patiently waiting for his master to unload his worries. That minor action made the fluttering butterflies in his stomach settle down. With a heavy sigh, he scrubbed his face with his leather glove tiredly, feeling much older than he was. For a five hundred year-old magical creature to detect his nervousness, he must look like a sorry state.

Since Sesshomaru was freely offering to be the wizard's sounding board, Harry supposed it'd be a shame not to take the gift in its mouth. Leaning against the bricked wall, he confessed, "I hated one of Andromeda's sisters, whom she resembles a lot. I'm worried about what she'll think of me…I mean, I've tried to avoid her ever since the war."

"You are speaking nonsense."

The Head Auror chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, it sounds nonsensical when I hear it too. Honestly I don't know why I'm like this. It's pathetic. She isn't Bellatrix. I know that and yet…."

He broke off, unable to voice his thoughts aloud to a stranger. Being an outsider, there was no way for Lord Sesshomaru to know what Harry was going through. Sesshomaru couldn't know the memories that swarmed in when he uttered that name, which left a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn't know Harry's insecurities about the war actions he'd committed against the members of the House of Black. Harry glared at the floorboards.

There was a reason why he chose to travel. Returning to magical Britain brought back many unpleasant thoughts that, if he were a little more like a lot of his associates, he'd attempt to drink his problems away. If he were a little more like them, he'd be spending his nights in sexual nirvana with a warm body in his bed. Instead, like the freak of nature that he was, he buried himself in his work. He dedicated all his attention and free-time into social reforms and studying wizarding politics. He took vindictive joy in the task of catching Death Eaters and calling a hunt on their heads.

Merlin, he was becoming more and more psychopathic every day.

His fists clenched and a dark cloud settled over his face. Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't feel it when soft, downy fur brushed his numb fingers. Harry stared down at the white fur mutely.

In a silent show of male camaraderie Sesshomaru had gently curled the tail end of his sentient boa around Harry's hand, wrapped comfortingly and somewhat loosely around icy fingers. Unlike the times he'd come into contact with the pelt, Harry was not in a state of distraction. His black mood subsided. With a dizzy mind, he wondered how it'd feel to run his fingers through the material without the leather barrier acting as an impediment. He rolled a clump between his thumb and pointer finger, caressing the pelt. His lips curled into an unconscious, happy smile.

It truly felt as soft as it'd looked.

The well-greased door swung open, spilling light over them. The pelt slipped from his fingers and before he could mourn the loss, Harry's name was shouted and a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his legs. A small face nuzzled and rubbed his cheek against the wizard's trousers. Looking down at the blue-flashing-brown head, Harry felt a big burst of affection in his chest.

"You're here!" his godson exclaimed, pulling away and looking up at him with wide, shining eyes that held a trace of Remus in the coloring. The child metamorphmagus smelled like home and comfort. Harry stroked Teddy's hair, which made him squeeze the wizard tighter, as if he could keep him here. He repeated in a small, disbelieving voice, "You're really here."

"Hello there, Teddy," Harry greeted gruffly, but his tone was kind. He wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders. His eyes softened when the boy burrowed himself deeper against him. "I'm back."

* * *

(A/N)- One step back, two steps forward! I hope you've already realized by now…if you are expecting Harry in this story to become another gentle submissive beauty or another damsel in distress unjustly backstabbed by wizarding society, er, you already have a good number of fics to select from! I've read them! Here I'm going to try to keep their "masculinity" and strong personalities consistent without making them too OP or either one of them a perfect Adonis. The relationship-building is very important to me so while the romance will not be that much of a slow-build, it hopefully will not be a fast over-the-heels sort of lust and affection. Also since we're going the realistic route I imagine Sesshomaru, as a sovereign, for him to develop an intimate interest in anyone, especially for a human shield brother whom for all intents and purposes cannot bear him an heir, the benefits must outweigh the drawbacks. Basically if he doesn't take Harry as Lady of the West (–snerks-) it'd be pretty irresponsible of him. More on that later….

Next chapter, adorableness that'd make you sick. And Sesshomaru discovers another one of the lord's attractive traits. To be crude, shit has not hit the fan yet! Thank you for sticking with me. Certainly, let me know what you think! :)


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